A Mask of Gold
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: This is a story requested by Zipper Whippersnapper. It is now complete. It is a Tim-centered story big surprise . What is a mask but a disguise of reality? What does it hide but the truth?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is a story which has been undertaken at the behest of Zipper Whippersnapper. I don't want to spoil how the story will progress; so I'm not going to tell you what the request actually was. It was made back in January and only now am I getting around to doing it. The title of this story comes from a quote (big surprise, right?) by Thomas Dekker: "A mask of gold hides all deformities." I plan on beginning each chapter with a quote and you'll probably quickly clue into the theme.

* * *

><p><strong>A Mask of Gold<br>**by Enthusiastic Fish

**Chapter 1**

"_Do you not know that there comes a midnight hour when every one has to throw off his mask? Do you believe that life will always let itself be mocked? Do you think you can slip away a little before midnight in order to avoid this? Or are you not terrified by it? I have seen men in real life who so long deceived others that at last their true nature could not reveal itself;... In every man there is something which to a certain degree prevents him from becoming perfectly transparent to himself; and this may be the case in so high a degree, he may be so inexplicably woven into relationships of life which extend far beyond himself that he almost cannot reveal himself. But he who cannot reveal himself cannot love, and he who cannot love is the most unhappy man of all." _

_Soren Kierkegaard_

_Present..._

The toilet flushed and Tim wiped off his mouth, sternly telling himself that he stood to gain nothing by making himself sick with his fear. Still, he sat back on the floor, leaning against the sink, trying not to think of what was likely coming in his life. There was just so much that had happened in the last year. He drew his knees to his chest and lay there, looking at the amazing view he had...of the bathroom. All those months he had spent resenting his friends and coworkers because they didn't acknowledge that he might have something to contribute to the things they'd been doing.

...even now, even when he knew just how wrong he'd been, how badly everything was going...even now, he could feel the anger roiling around in his stomach as he thought about how dismissive they'd been. Even _Abby_ who should know better than anyone that he didn't just say things without having knowledge to back it up, not about science, even _she_ had laughed at him when he'd first given his ideas.

He grimaced. It was far too easy to follow what he'd been told. Far too easy to let minor annoyances turn into deal-breakers. He couldn't believe how easily they'd reeled him in. He wasn't the kind of person who was led around by the nose. He wasn't!

_Or _are_ you? After all, who else would be dumb enough to let flattery turn them into a villain? You're a complete idiot._

He shook his head and got to his feet. He couldn't delay this any longer. He washed off his face and then walked out into the main room. Tim looked around his apartment, the trappings of his life...and his gaze lingered on his computer. If he had known where his facility with that machine would lead...

"I wouldn't have done anything different," he said aloud. "I'd just tell myself I'd be more careful. ...and end up in the same situation...because I'm stupid. How can I be so smart and be so _dumb_?"

He sighed and ran a shaking hand through his hair. This was just a delaying tactic...because he didn't want to face what he had to face. There were two problems: no one would believe him if he told them and it was his fault and therefore, his mess.

The biggest problem was that he had very little doubt that he'd die doing this...and he may not even succeed.

_Just deserts. You got yourself into this. You don't deserve to get out of it if you can't do it by yourself._

He nodded and carefully set his badge on the counter. He wouldn't ruin NCIS by going in as an agent. He also set his phone beside his badge. He wouldn't need it anymore. With a final deep breath, he headed for the door.

...and then paused when his phone started to ring. He walked back and looked at it.

Gibbs.

Tim hesitated. Years of reinforcement screamed at him to answer.

_Never be unreachable!_

...but he couldn't because he couldn't clue them in to what he was doing and he couldn't let them know he was going to die. They would try to stop him from doing what he had to do.

_What's he going to do, anyway? Fire you? Besides, you're following one of _his_ rules, remember? Clean up your own messes! This is _your_ mess, not theirs. Why should _they_ suffer for your stupidity?_

Tim smiled and left his phone where it was. He walked out of his apartment, not bothering to lock the door behind him. If by some miracle he survived this, he probably wouldn't have a job or anything worth keeping anyway.

With a final nod, he left.

On his way to fulfill his one-man crusade against those who wanted to rule the world...or at least as large a piece of it as they could get.

"Knowlege is power," he whispered.

He knew he was going to die. He supposed there was a power in that. Nothing worse that he could lose.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"_Evil comes to all us men of imagination wearing as its mask all the virtues."  
><em>_William Butler Yeats _

_One year ago..._

"...and it's another win for good old-fashioned police work...and another loss for the geek squad," Tony said with a wide grin.

Tim sighed. How had this particular competition even started?

"Tony, does everything have to be a contest with you?"

"Only when I win and you pathetically lose."

"My idea was a _good_ one!"

"But it failed. Miserably. _My_ idea, on the other hand, led to an arrest. Did your fake-genius algorithm or whatever lead us to the bad guy? Did it?"

"It _would _have," Tim insisted, irritated that he was letting himself get drawn into this even further...and irritated that Tony could be so consistently dismissive of what he could do. "...but none of you would give it a chance!"

"Time is of the essence in tracking down a dirtbag," Tony said, still with the same leering grin. "Gibbs wants everything done now, not in an hour or two because your little computer needed to be coddled."

"Must you two always argue about these things?" Ziva asked. "It is really rather tiresome. Tony's idea worked, McGee. I do not see why that is a problem. We were able to stop a criminal from striking again. That is what we do here, yes?"

"Hey, _I_ didn't start this," Tim said.

"But you are continuing it," Ziva said reasonably. "You are smarter than Tony. Do not let him goad you."

"If he's so smart, how come _I'm_ the winner?" Tony asked.

_Thwack!_

"You finished with your report, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.

"No, Boss."

"Stop celebrating and finish it, then," he said and then looked at Tim. "And you stop sulking and finish yours. This is not a game!"

Tim bit back his irritation and sat down at his desk. His idea would have worked if they'd bothered to give it a chance. But they hadn't. Just like always. He wasn't one of those people who thought that technology could solve every problem, but he did wish they'd give it a bit more of a showing than they did...instead of putting it _and_ him down at every turn. It wasn't about winning. It was about acknowledging that there was more than just one accepted way of doing things. There were advances being made all the time and NCIS had to keep up.

But Tim said none of that. This was nothing new. It just was bothering him a bit more today than it had in the past. He took a deep breath and tried to push away his irritation. Instead, he focused on the report he needed to finish.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs ended up requiring revisions from everyone's reports. It was pretty late by the time he let them go. As they gathered their stuff, Tony looked over at Tim. He hadn't said much for most of the evening. Tony knew he was still bugged about his computer stuff not working out. If Tony were honest, he was relieved that his idea had worked. He hadn't been sure that it would...while Tim had been confident his method would work. Too confident. Tony didn't like it when Tim got overly confident. If something worked when Tim was sure it would...well, then it was the triumph of computers over everyday Joes like Tony. No one wants to become obsolete.

Still...Tony knew he'd gone a bit far. He knew how easy it was to needle Tim about things that hadn't worked right. In earlier years, Tim would have taken it as a comment on his own abilities, i.e. that he couldn't measure up to the standard of an NCIS...but he'd got beyond that worry. Tony didn't have to worry about that. ...but the day was over and Tim needed to see that it was all water under the bridge.

"Hey, McGee, coming?" he asked.

Tim looked at him a bit stiffly and shook his head.

"Come on, Probie! The case is closed. We need to celebrate!"

"No, thanks, Tony. I'm just going home tonight. Have fun." Tim's voice was calm enough as he answered, but there was something about his stance that told Tony he wasn't over it yet.

_Maybe I went further than I thought._

"Yes, McGee, come!" Ziva said, unexpectedly joining Tony's side. "We all worked hard on this case. We should celebrate our success."

Tony almost winced. Bad choice of words. Tim only shook his head again.

"No, thanks, Ziva. I'd rather turn in early tonight."

It was almost a repeat of what he'd already said. So _really_ not in the mood to spend any more time with the others. Tony could see the writing on the wall.

"Okay, McGee. Your loss!"

Tim turned away to pick up his bag, but Tony could have sworn he'd heard Tim say something else.

"_Just like always..."_

Tony debated replying to that, but he decided it wasn't that serious. It wasn't a big deal. Tim would go home, write some diatribe on his typewriter, maybe kill a few orcs on his computer and tomorrow, he'd be back to normal...and Tony himself would only lord it over him a little bit.

"See you tomorrow, McGee," Ziva said.

"Good night, Ziva." Tim didn't seem inclined to join them in the elevator and so Tony just walked with Ziva and left him at his desk.

"You were trying to make McGee angry at you today," Ziva observed as the doors closed.

"No, I wasn't! It's called _teasing_, Ziva, and McGee can take it."

"He did not seem in the mood to 'take it' today."

"He's just sulking."

"Perhaps, but do you have to rub it in when this skill he has does not play out as he thinks it should?"

"I don't always do it...and no one gets everything right. He's no exception."

"Even so, it was unnecessary."

"Tomorrow, he'll be fine and we won't say anything else about it."

"So you say."

"I do say, and I'm right."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim looked at his typewriter and decided that he wasn't in the mood for writing. Instead, he sat down at his computer and logged on. Still feeling more frustrated than he knew he should, he went to one of his tech chat rooms. He had some "friends" in these places he enjoyed chatting with and they had often sympathized with his frustrations about working with people who were somewhat less than expert in their knowledge of computers.

He joined a random chat.

_McGeeK: Why are people so stupid?_

_Lor: Because not everyone can be as brilliant as you._

_McGeeK: Ha ha. :P_

_Lor: What's eating you?_

_McGeeK: Just work today. They never give me a chance to show that my ideas will work. They just do it like they've always done it and it's frustrating._

_Servo: People are just afraid of getting put in their place by one of the geek squad._

_Lor: Not everyone. Some people really just don't care._

_Servo: Well, they should. The world is getting more technology-oriented by the day and those of us who have embraced it shouldn't be knocked down just because we get it._

_McGeeK: They're not usually that bad._

_Kobayashi_Maru: You sure complain about them a lot._

_McGeeK: I guess I do. Today was just so frustrating because I know that what I wanted to do would have worked, but they wouldn't even give it the time of day._

ToKnowIsToRule_ has just entered the room._

_Servo: I think it stinks that this keeps happening. Why don't you quit?_

_McGeeK: Because I like my job. I even like them most of the time._

_Lor: Then, I guess you just need to get over it._

_McGeeK: You're probably right._

_Kobayashi_Maru: Well, there was that great idea you had to lock up their computers a few weeks ago._

_McGeeK: :blush: No. I wouldn't ever do that, but it would work if I ever wanted to._

_Kobayashi_Maru: I'm tempted to do it to my employer...but I won't until I find another job._

_McGeeK: You quitting then?_

_Kobayashi_Maru: I'm looking around. Not committing myself yet._

_Servo: You could move out here. We need more geniuses._

_Kobayashi_Maru: I'm not a genius. Just a techie._

_Servo: :rofl:_

_Servo: To some people they're equivalent._

_Kobayashi_Maru: Not to me._

_Lor: Not to me, either. We just have a skill others don't. It doesn't make us better._

Tim leaned back as the others continued to chat. He felt a bit better just for having got his frustrations out.

Then, suddenly, a message popped up.

_ToKnowIsToRule has sent you a PM._

Curious, Tim clicked on it. This username had never shown up in this chatroom before. Most of the members were just techies who used it as a way to vent frustrations and occasionally get help with technical issues. This person hadn't written anything in the time he'd been in the room.

_ToKnowIsToRule: "There is no knowledge that is not power." Ralph Waldo Emerson._

Tim looked at the quotation, feeling a bit confused. What was the point of that? He replied.

_McGeeK: Yes? And? What's your point?_

A few seconds passed.

_ToKnowIsToRule has sent you a PM._

He clicked on it.

_ToKnowIsToRule: Knowledge doesn't get enough respect. Do you have the knowledge necessary to follow where I lead?_

Tim laughed a little.

_McGeeK: Okay, who is this? Tony, if this is you, I swear I'm going to kill you this time._

A few more seconds.

_ToKnowIsToRule has sent you a PM._

Tim opened it.

_ToKnowIsToRule: I won't ask again and this chance will never come again. Will you follow where I lead?_

_McGeeK: ...and where are you leading?_

He waited.

_ToKnowIsToRule has sent you a PM._

_ToKnowIsToRule: "We give you the facts. I told you information is power - knowledge is power. We can't be in an ideological battle to redeem the soul of this country if we don't have the facts." Tavis Smiley _

_ToKnowIsToRule: Give me an email address and I'll show you where to go. _

Tim wasn't sure what to make of all this, but he was now intrigued...which he realized was probably the point. It was probably just another game, but he was interested enough to try it out. He had a separate email address for just this kind of thing.

_McGeeK: McGeeK at gmail dot com_

ToKnowIsToRule_ has left the room._

_McGeeK: Well, I'm off. Thanks for letting me vent._

_Lor: Anytime._

_Kobayashi_Maru: Where did you disappear to?_

_McGeeK: Weird guy sent me a message._

_Servo: Careful with those weird guys. You never know what they'll end up being. Crazy nuts in disguise!_

_McGeeK: :D Don't worry about me. I know what I'm doing. See you later._

Tim got out of the chat room and headed for his gmail account. Sure enough. He had a message. He opened it and found...what at first seemed like only gibberish. He was about to delete it as the work of a particularly-determined spammer, but then, he noticed the patterns, the equations in the lines.

No...not equations. These weren't equations. They were...directions. Websites. Lines of code. He did a quick check for viruses or other malware and came up with nothing.

Now thoroughly intrigued, Tim began to put together the lines, finding the things that fit together. It was hard. It was more challenging than anything he'd done in a long while...and it was fun. It stretched his abilities and kept his mind engaged on the task at hand.

Two hours later, he had it. It was a website address. With a feeling of triumph, Tim recklessly entered it into his browser and headed to the site.

A window popped up containing two 5x5 matrices full of equations. Surprised and more interested than he'd ever admit, Tim smiled and started working through it. Again, the work was hard and not what he'd expected, but finally, he finished and entered the solution into the spaces provided.

The window disappeared and he was on the site.

There was another quotation in large letters, almost like a motto.

"_A wise man has great power, and a man of knowledge increases strength." Proverbs 24:5_

Tim looked at the homepage. At the very top read _Welcome to the last home of those who know the value of knowledge!_

Surprised, Tim started examining the front. There was information everywhere. On one side, lines of code, apparently being written by other people on the site in real time. In another area was a list of "unsolved problems". It was an almost-dizzying assault on his brain. There was so much to see. ...but finally, he noticed a _New to the site?_ link. He quickly clicked it and was taken to a page that was empty except for a chat box.

_Hello?_

Tim waited. He waited for a few minutes and was ready to go back when words appeared.

_Welcome. There are two rules for you to join our society. If you agree to keep them, then we will welcome you and show you the wonders we possess. If you do not, or if you agree and then break them, you will be banned from this site and all we have will be locked to you forever. Understood?_

Tim paused. This seemed awfully paranoid for a site dedicated to glorifying intelligence.

_I understand, but I'm not going to agree before I know what the rules are._

_Well done. You have passed the third test. The first was finding the site. The second was solving the problem. The third was knowing when to question and when to obey._

_Rule #1: This is a site accessed by special invitation and by ability only. You may not show this site to anyone else, nor are you authorized to invite anyone else. That privileged is reserved for members at higher levels only. Agreed?_

Tim rolled his eyes a little.

_Agreed._

_Good. Rule #2: We work together for our common good. We do not seek for self-aggrandizement. If you achieve something, you do not keep it from the group. If you solve a problem, have an idea that may be of use to us, or any other thing, you must share it and not keep it from us. This is a group dedicated to helping the intelligent gain their rightful place and this can't be achieved by individualistic tendencies._

Again, Tim rolled his eyes, but he did want to see what else there was. That front page had been fascinating enough.

_Agreed._

_Good. Feel free to try out the problems we pose and post whatever ideas you have. Genuine ideas are appreciated even if they don't work. You are now a probationary member. At the end of one month, you will be evaluated and if you pass muster, you will be admitted to full member status and have access to more of the site. Enjoy._

Tim laughed as he was thrown back to the front page. Instantly, he clicked on one of the unsolved problems and began to examine it.

He ended up working on it for three hours, posting his ideas and getting feedback from other members. Finally, reluctantly, he signed off, knowing that he'd be tired in the morning but excited at having found this place. It was going to be an interesting diversion...


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"_Everything that deceives may be said to enchant."  
><em>_Plato _

_Three months later..._

Tim was distracted at work and he knew he was. ...and he knew why. It was all because of the email he'd received a week ago...an email that was about one of the real meetings, not just working on the site. They had sent him his mask just yesterday. The mask was amazing. It wasn't one of those masquerade types. It was...a hologram, essentially. It would present whatever face you wanted to the world, and the image wrapped completely around the head. There was an electronic interface that did have to be worn to cover the facial features, but it wasn't a full mask. It was very thin. The technology was absolutely amazing and Tim had spent more than an hour just trying to figure out how it worked. To no avail. It was genuinely beyond him, but he hoped he could ask one of the other members about it.

Tonight.

"Oh, Probie?"

Tony's voice intruded on Tim's reverie and he stifled a sigh. It wasn't that Tony had been doing anything wrong, but he would much prefer to think more about how that mask worked than to talk to Tony about work.

"What, Tony?"

"I don't mean to interrupt, but I think we've asked you three times already if you've got the results of that search."

Tim looked at Tony and then at Ziva who was also staring at him. Thankfully, Gibbs wasn't around. Yet. Tim looked at his monitor and saw that, yes, the search had finished and he had results. He forced himself to focus on the screen.

"Phone records show no one unexpected. No large volume of calls from the same number. So far as I can tell, no secret numbers, no one..." Then, his voice trailed off. Something about one of the numbers looked familiar but he couldn't think why.

"No one what, McGee?" Tony asked.

Tim barely heard him. He brought up the numbers on his monitor and examined them more closely. He could have sworn that he'd seen them before.

"McGee!"

Why would he recognize a... Wait. This wasn't a phone number. He'd somehow got into the text messages. He was looking at a text! ...but why the numbers? And why did he know what they were?

_Thwack!_

Tim jolted back into reality and looked around for Gibbs. No Gibbs...but Tony was looking at him with a bit of annoyance and Ziva actually looked slightly concerned.

"Hey!" he said irritably. "What was that for?"

"You were zoning out, Probie, and you stopped talking mid-sentence."

"Nothing I haven't done before, Tony. I was thinking. I know _you_ don't bother with that very often, but it shouldn't be a problem if the rest of us choose to dabble in deep thought occasionally." Tim stopped talking, surprised at the venom in his statement. Tony wasn't being any more annoying than usual. In fact, he was being far _less_. Why was Tim so much more bugged by him?

"McGee, is there something you have found?" Ziva asked, clearly determined to move on.

"I don't know. I found this text message, but it's all numbers. They seem familiar to me, but I don't know why."

"Well, there are only ten different numbers, you know, Probie," Tony said.

"Ha, ha. This sequence. I _know_ I've seen it before...or something just like it."

There was a moment of silence and then Tony shrugged.

"Well, you can keep looking at the numbers, Probie. I'm going to try and solve a murder."

Suddenly, Tim felt his irritation explode into anger.

"Tony, I _am_ trying to solve a murder! Sometimes, it actually takes a little bit of knowledge to figure things out! It might not happen right away, but if you'd exercise a particle of patience, maybe you'd learn something new, heaven forbid!" Tim noticed he'd raised his voice quite a bit. He took a deep breath and calmed himself down. "Maybe these numbers _don't_ have anything to do with the petty officer's death, but it's something that we should look into, not just dismiss because we don't understand it right away!"

There was another moment of silence, this time out of surprise.

"Does it relate to the case, McGee?" Gibbs asked from behind him.

Tim turned around.

"I don't know. What I do know is that I've seen these numbers in a similar sequence before. There's some meaning to this. It's not just gibberish."

"How long will it take you to figure it out?"

"Uh...I don't know."

"Then, put it aside for now. We've got other leads to follow. Give it to Abby if she has time."

"Boss, this could be important!"

"How?"

"I...I don't know, but we shouldn't just ignore it!"

"McGee, we've got a lot of other leads to follow. You can look into it later."

Tim sighed and sat back at his computer. He began to explain the results of the phone records search to Gibbs, all the while stewing silently about how it seemed like, once again, anything that required technology and deep thought was being passed over...and because _he_ wanted to look into it, he was being passed over as well.

The murder was a strange one because there didn't seem to be any kind motive to it. There had to be _something_, but it wasn't theft. Petty Officer Lancer didn't have any enemies that they could discern. He hadn't been involved in anything shady. In fact, he'd been a lot like Tim, only in the Navy. He was smart, kind of interested in computers, very high marks in school, but unlike Tim, he'd chosen to join the Navy because he couldn't afford college. No hidden funds. No sign of any kind of problem. He was simply dead...and obviously murdered...but even the exact cause of death was uncertain.

They still were tracking down his family and his friends, and Abby was going through his personal belongings, but they had so little to go on that, to Tim, it seemed downright stupid not to look into this. It was getting to the point that the only thing he had to look forward to was the meeting. Thankfully, it was late at night. He wouldn't be likely to miss it.

They made little, if any progress on the case and Gibbs sent them home. Tony and Ziva tried to get Tim to come with them, but he refused. He had very little interest in hanging out with people who were so quick to reject intellect. ...but as the thought ran through his head, he wondered where it had come from. ...but he pushed his confusion away and focused on the coming meeting. It was something that definitely excited him.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim pulled up at the large house and looked around in surprise. This wasn't what he had expected, but he was sure that the address was right. He got out of his car and walked a bit tentatively to the front door.

Before he could knock, there was a camera that came down and scanned him, head to toe.

"_Timothy McGee?"_ it asked in a mechanical voice.

"Uh...yes."

"_Voice print needed for confirmation. Please speak."_

"Uh...what should I say?"

"_Voice print confirmed. You may enter the premises."_

"Voice print?"

"_Recorded during live chat. Match has been made. You may now enter."_

The door swung open.

There was no one behind it. It seemed to be completely automated. Was the whole house going to be empty?

Tim stepped inside, feeling more than a little apprehensive. Where was he supposed to go now?

...and as if someone had read his confused thoughts, another door opened. ...but this one had people behind it. There were lights and laughter. With some relief, Tim hurried toward the door and stepped inside. No masks were on yet as Tim had been instructed. He had his, of course, but he wasn't wearing it. Not yet, even though he wanted to.

"You're Tim?" one man asked.

Tim nodded and then flushed a little as the room fell silent and everyone stared at him. He chanced an awkward wave.

The man laughed.

"Everyone's always interested in new members and a lot of us have been intrigued by your ideas, Tim. I'm Emil. Come on in."

People started talking again, and Tim relaxed enough to step into the room and look around.

...and what a room it was. A normal party would have some kind of ballroom with music and dancing, but this room had a bank of computers with crowds around every one. There weren't huge numbers of people in the room, but there were at least thirty. Emil led Tim to a refreshments table.

"Like I said, we've been really interested in your ideas."

"You have?"

Emil laughed again. "Don't act so surprised. Even though your idea for solving the Yang-Mills existence and mass gap didn't work, it was new...and we like new ideas. We'll never get farther if we don't keep trying new things. That's why we like getting new members. They always bring something unique to the group."

Tim smiled and hitched one shoulder. It was such a different feeling to have his ideas being praised...when they'd failed.

"I was really just building off of what others have already done."

"Stop being so modest. We like people to admit that they've done something good. There's a difference between lording one's accomplishments over everyone else and just acknowledging that there has been progress...and that you contributed to it."

"Sorry...not used to doing that without getting stomped on for it."

"Figured. A lot of us have had to get over that. Including me." Emil handed Tim a drink and took one himself. "So, in case you couldn't figure it out, I'm your official guide for your first few meetings. I'll tell you what to do. We have some ceremony that we follow. It helps make us more cohesive as a group. The first time will seem weird, but after that, you'll get used to it. I have to admit that I kind of enjoy the ceremony." He grinned. "Besides...the masks are so _cool_."

"Yeah," Tim said. "How do they work? I've been trying to figure it out, but I'd have to take mine apart and I'm not sure I could put it back together again."

"Probably not. ...and you won't get any answers about how they work until you're higher up in the group. They have a pretty strict hierarchy here."

"Why? I've noticed that."

"It's...just something that they do. You don't get everything at once. You have to work to advance and prove yourself. I think you'll advance pretty quickly. You seem to have a lot of what we're looking for."

"Which is?"

"Interest. Skills. An innovative spirit. ...and a thirst to show that what you can do is important."

"Why does _that_ matter?" Tim asked.

"Because we want to make the world know that knowledge is important, that people who _know_ aren't just hiding in their parents' basements. We're alive, aware and we _will_ make a difference."

Tim nodded. How many times had Tony put him down because he enjoyed hobbies that weren't the typical jock diversions? How many times had he been mocked because he enjoyed online games rather than wasting his time doing things like gambling?

Suddenly, the lights flashed in a particular rhythm, a series of flashes, followed by a pause in complete darkness, then more flashes and another pause. It happened so quickly that Tim realized only belatedly that he'd been counting the numbers.

"Those flashes," he began.

"Ask me later," Emil said. He lifted his mask and smiled.

Tim grinned in anticipation and pulled on his own mask. It felt strange as he looked around the room. ...and he realized that not only did everyone's masks change at different rates, his own vision had been modified by the lenses that allowed him to see through the hologram. He staggered backward a little bit in surprise. Emil put a steadying hand on his arm.

"Careful. The first time they activate the masks, it's a shock."

"That's putting it mildly," Tim said breathlessly. "Wow."

Tim was seeing as if every person in the room had a visible connection to every other person. He could see different colors. Some lights were brighter than others.

"Brighter colors mean higher up in the organization?" he asked.

"Exactly. Look at you and me."

Tim turned toward Emil. In addition to holographic images shimmering over his face, there was a dark blue line running from Emil to himself. A brighter line, violet, ran from Emil to someone else. The lines didn't stay the same either. As people walked around the room, new connections were made and the colors shifted, but everyone had a colored aura...and that aura colored the lines.

"Wow," Tim said again. He looked down at himself and noticed that he had a very dim green aura. "Wow."

Emil only laughed.

"This is only the beginning, Tim. This is all for show. It's just to remind us that we are a group and we all are connected. It shows that we change each other and strengthen each other. It also helps us to know if someone has come in who is _not_ part of the group. The equipment is rigged up throughout the house. No matter where you go in here, as long as the power is on and you're wearing your mask, you'll instantly know who is a friend and...who is not."

"This is so cool!" Tim said, barely hearing everything that was being said. Emil had to nudge him to get him to walk into the next room. Tim followed, looking eagerly around at everyone, watching as his own green aura connected with the auras of others and changed.

They stepped into a room that was completely black. ...except for the light given off by the other members. Emil led Tim to the center of the room and then murmured that he needed to stand where he was and turn off his mask. Tim felt a little self conscious as the other members arranged themselves in a circle surrounding him. They turned off their masks. All that remained were the colored auras. The impression Tim got from the people standing around him was of an emission spectrum: all black with occasional bright lights.

Suddenly, a voice spoke out of the darkness. "Timothy McGee is joining our group. He has proved himself intelligent, driven, inventive. Who agrees that he is worthy to step up?"

There was silence. Tim didn't know if this was normal, but then he looked over where Emil had been standing. He recognized his blue aura. The connection he had to him suddenly brightened. Tim looked at himself and saw that his own green aura had increased in its brightness slightly. Then, he noticed a yellow line. He followed it back to another bright silhouette. His green aura again increased in brightness slightly. Then, a red. Then, a purple. Then, orange. The colored lines came from every point on the circle...until finally, a bright white line traced the distance between him and the last dark silhouette.

"Unanimous. Your level has increased, Timothy McGee. Honor your increased access and your level will increase again. Tonight, when you return home, log on to the site and you will see what more is available to you."

Tim smiled even though he knew it could not be seen. Emil was right. It was weird, but it was cool. Like being in a game.

"I will," he said.

Then, suddenly, the masks came on around him and he saw the changing faces and laughed as he turned on his own. The lines began to shift and change again, but Tim noticed that his own aura stayed brighter. A higher level.

"Cool, huh?" Emil asked as he joined Tim.

"Yeah. Cool. Weird, but cool."

"Now, let's go have some fun. We're still geeks at heart, you know. This house has _the_ best hookups for games. You won't believe it."

Tim laughed again and eagerly followed Emil back into the main room.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim completely forgot about the numbers in the flashes. He didn't even think to ask Emil about them as he mingled with the other members...and beat them all handily at the games. One of the other members, Lars, had been so intrigued by Tim's prowess that he'd cornered him and grilled him on his technique. Tim had been more than willing to satisfy Lars' curiosity. In fact, as he'd talked about some of the things he did when he was playing online, he got a bit of an audience...and more lines had joined with his aura as he spoke. One of the others had asked him about how he become so skilled in some of the more conventional shoot-em-up games. Tim told them about how he was a federal agent and so he could use some of his training from that to increase his skills in these virtual games.

It wasn't until over an hour after he'd returned home, after he'd started looking at more of the site, that he remembered the sequence of those flashing lights. ...the fact that they had been the same numbers he'd found on the text message. After puzzling over it for a while, he went into the chat room.

_Hello?_

_What is it?_

Tim always wondered who it was that answered his questions in this place, but there weren't any names given. It was the only part of the site that was completely and utterly anonymous.

_What are the flashing lights which went off right before the meeting tonight?_

_Why?_

_The sequence. It's a pattern of some sort...and I found the same numbers in a text message today. The phone belonged to a murder victim. We have no leads. I want to make sure there is nothing else. Perhaps he was a member of the group?_

_His name?_

_Charles Lancer._

There was a pause.

_No, that name is not in our membership database. You're certain that it is the same sequence?_

_Positive._

_We'll look into it. It's possible that he could have been tapped to join us but either had rejected the invitation or had not had the opportunity to try it._

_Thank you._

_Remember. _

_Yes, I know. I won't tell anyone about this group...but if he is involved..._

_We are aware of our civic duty. By tomorrow, we should be able to tell you whether or not he was linked to us in any way._

_Thank you._

Tim left the room and then shut down his computer. With the exception of that little hiccup, tonight had been an absolute blast. His only regret was that he couldn't share it with Abby. Maybe when he got to a higher level he could issue her an invitation. He knew she'd love the mask.

But not yet. Besides, Tim had to admit that it was kind of nice to have this place where he was so well-liked and respected. It was completely unsullied by anyone else's opinions of him.

Nodding to himself, Tim got into bed and went to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"_We are inclined to believe those whom we do not know because they have never deceived us."  
><em>_Samuel Johnson_

_Three months later..._

Tim listened with concern as the witness described something impossible...or something that _should_ be impossible. It should be impossible because it was an idea _he'd_ had a month ago and talked about only in the group. ...but not as a tool for murder. It was only in one of the games.

"I know it sounds crazy, Agent McGee, but I swear it was like another image just popped up out of nowhere. It was like the guy...duplicated himself or something. It's impossible, but that's what I _saw_!"

"I believe you," Tim said.

"No, you don't. No one would. I was drunk at the time, and no one's going to believe what I saw...but I wasn't _that_ drunk. I saw that!"

"I understand. I believe that's what you saw."

"But you don't think it's possible, do you."

"It does seem strange, but we'll investigate it. I promise."

"You're not just saying that?"

"No," Tim said seriously. "I promise that this is something we'll look into."

Another day. Another mysterious murder. It would have seemed just like a random killing, but this petty officer happened to be a close friend of Petty Officer Lancer...a murder that was still unsolved. What were the odds that another man, friendly with Lancer would suffer an unrelated...and bizarre death?

This murder, at least, would have seemed fairly mundane, but for two things. One, there was an eyewitness, a woman who'd been drowning her sorrows at a nearby bar, who swore up and down that she'd seen the killer duplicate himself. Two, the death was due to exsanguination, so far as Ducky could tell, but the wound was not a typical bullet wound. Tim thought it looked an awful lot like some sort of...energy burn, but his suggestion had been put down. As usual. In this case, Tim could at least understand why. This killing had taken place in a parking lot, not some laboratory...and besides, energy weapons weren't supposed to exist. They were supposed to be a part of science fiction. ...but Tim had seen plans for one. Once. ...and he was pretty sure that it had only been a glitch on the site that had allowed him to. He had gone to the chat room immediately and asked about it because the link he had clicked on had not taken him where he had thought he was going, but instead had set him down in the midst of what had _looked_ like a weapons planning area.

They had been able to calm his worries quite quickly and they thanked him for reporting the mixed up link...but Tim had been a little bit intrigued by it...and more than a little worried. Weapons? Why would they be needing weapons?

However, for him personally, what worried him the most was that, based on the witness' description, the killer had been using an idea Tim had proposed for expanding the utility of the technology behind the masks. He still hadn't been able to figure out how the masks worked, but he had suggested that if the technology was stable enough, they could conceivably use it to, instead of create other faces, duplicate themselves. It had seemed like a fun idea and everyone had enjoyed proposing different ways of using such technology.

Murder had not been one of them.

Tim couldn't disobey the rules, but he had to suggest that this was possible. NCIS had to know that this woman might not be completely crazy. He walked back to the group who was still hovering around the body.

"Boss?"

"What did she have to say, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"It sounds crazy, but..."

"What, Probie?" Tony asked.

"She says that she saw the killer split into two copies of himself."

There was a moment of silence and then Tony guffawed loudly.

"Excuse me?"

"The killer duplicated himself. It's not as ridiculous as it sounds, Tony!"

Ducky looked up. "Are you aware of research in this area, Timothy?"

"Not...not exactly," Tim hedged. He couldn't break the rule of secrecy. "But hologram technology..."

"Holograms? You mean like _Star Trek_?" Tony interrupted. "Come on, McGee. This is worse than your lasers!"

"I didn't say lasers, Tony," Tim retorted with some heat. "It couldn't be lasers because any laser that could do enough damage to kill a human being would be the size of a flat-bed truck!"

"How do you know all this, McGee?" Ziva asked.

"I...keep up with what people are doing...Ziva. You're acting like this is some strange thing that I know."

"Well, it is. How many people do _you_ know who keep up with this kind of technology?"

Tim sighed in utter frustration. "So...because _you_ personally don't know about this, it's bizarre that _I_ do? Come on! You're not the be all and end all of technology research! None of you care about research! Just because I happen to enjoy it..."

"You're saying this is possible?" Gibbs interrupted in a warning tone.

"Yes. I don't know if it's actually been done, but hologram technology is not something just for science fiction!"

"Timothy, you seem rather upset about this."

"I'm just tired of you all putting down any suggestion I make...just because I'm the one making it."

"That's not it at all, Probie," Tony said. "You're talking about things that apparently don't exist."

"That's all this woman had to say?" Gibbs asked, getting back on topic.

"She didn't see the man clearly, but she did say that his gun didn't make any noise. ...and she admits that she was drunk."

As soon as he'd said those words, Tim knew that was it. They all crafted knowing looks. Drunk equaled unimportant. He'd tell Abby. She'd at least listen to him...and Gibbs listened to _her_.

They worked on the rest of the crime scene and Tim said nothing more about what he knew. He did wish he could clue them in on some of the work being done, but he couldn't say anything about the group's work. He couldn't even say anything about its existence. Too bad. It would have been so easy to explain himself if he could be forthright about it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"...but, Tim, that doesn't really seem...possible, does it?" Abby asked.

Tim sighed. Abby, too?

"It's not out there right now, of course, but we don't know a whole lot about what everyone's doing. You know about the science behind how these things could work. It's not just fiction."

"Well...it is right now, Tim," Abby said. "I mean, you have to admit that this is way beyond what's being published in science journals." She giggled. "It's like _Star Trek_ stuff, the holodeck!"

"Abby!"

She stopped laughing. "What? What's wrong, Tim?"

"Why is it that every suggestion I make is stupid?"

"I didn't say that! Not at all. I just think you're reading too much into what a drunk lady said."

"Thanks, Abby. Thanks a lot." Tim spun on his heel and stalked out of the lab, ignoring Abby's calls behind him.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Okay, what's going on with McGee?" Tony asked that evening.

Tim had left as soon as Gibbs had released them, brushing off any attempt to get him to hang out. He'd spent less and less time with them over the last few months, choosing to go home right after work instead. Like today, he was getting more and more uptight about any perceived slight on his intelligence.

"I don't know," Abby said. "Is there anything to support what he thinks about this?"

"Nothing," Ziva said. "But it is a very strange case. It must be linked to the murder from before, but other than that they were both killed..."

"I never could make any sense out of those numbers Tim said were a message. Find anything like that?"

"No," Tony said. "No gibberish. I do wish that McGee would stop getting in such a huff. It's like the littlest thing ticks him off. I went to his apartment the other night to see if I could get him to do something with us...but he wasn't there."

"Do you think something's wrong?" Abby asked.

"Not necessarily," Ziva said, "but it is clear that he is not happy with what we have been doing...no matter what it is. We are not smart enough, fast enough, intuitive enough. Everything that requires consideration is not good enough unless he comes up with it."

"But down here, today, he said that you think everything he comes up with is stupid."

"Maybe we can get him to talk to us tomorrow," Ziva suggested. "He has changed over the past few months. I do not like it."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat at his computer. He was weirded out by all this. The more they'd investigated, the more convinced he'd become that this murder had been committed by someone who knew about his suggestions...and who had seen the same weapons plans that he had. Even if he couldn't tell anyone about it, he could ask the leaders of the group what they thought. He trusted them. Decision made, he logged on to the site and went into the chat room to request a meeting.

He'd risen quickly through the ranks. Now, at their live meetings, his aura was shimmering green. He still was not allowed to invite anyone to the group, but he wasn't sure he wanted to tell Abby about it anymore anyway. She had rejected his ideas just like the rest of them had. Why waste something like this on her? They all ignored him...so he would ignore them.

...but that didn't mean there wasn't work to do and even if they were intent on shutting their eyes to what was really going on in the world, Tim still wanted to solve these cases.

_Hello? I'm worried. I need to talk to someone...higher than I've reached._

He sat back and waited. It didn't take long.

_Is this important?_

_Yes. Very._

_All right. Come now. We have time._

_Thank you._

Tim logged off and drove quickly over to the house. When he got out, he ran to the door, spoke to give his voice print and then hurried inside. When he got there, he didn't go into the main room, but turned to the left, down a dark hall and into an office. There was a large conference table. Three men were sitting, waiting for him.

"Tim, have a seat. You came quite quickly."

"I'm worried."

"About what?"

"Someone in the organization is working for their own ends," he said...and then paused. That wasn't why he was worried. A man had been killed! "...and used things discussed here to commit murder."

The three men looked at each other and then back at Tim.

"How certain are you of this?"

"Completely," Tim said. "The man was killed using something similar to that weapon I accidentally saw before...and a witness said that she saw the killer...duplicate himself...like I suggested at one of the live chats last month. The way she described it was exactly like what I'd said could be done! I'm worried because this murder is linked to the one three months ago, the one I told you about with the text message. You said he wasn't being tapped for the group. I'm worried that one of the members is trying to use the advances we've been making as a group for his or her own ends. I'm afraid that someone is working against us."

The three men talked in low voices for a few seconds.

"Thank you for telling us all this, Tim. I know that it's been hard for you to open up about your work, but this is a good sign. ...and we're grateful that you're bringing up your worries. This is definitely troubling and requires some deep investigation into our membership. Beginning tomorrow, rest assured that we'll be searching. If we find anything, we'll give the information to you to share with your coworkers. We want to get killers off the streets."

Tim nodded and sighed with relief. He'd been worried they wouldn't believe him or that they'd dismiss his concerns like the people at NCIS did.

"Thank you so much for listening. I didn't want to overstep my bounds, but..."

"But you want to do your job and to help us as well. It's hard to juggle lots of responsibilities, Tim, but you're doing it well."

"Thank you. I'd better get home. There was a meeting with one of the groups working on the unsolved problems tonight. I don't want to miss it."

The men smiled and one stood up. He held out his hand and Tim shook it.

"Go. I'll always be glad that you were recruited to join us, Tim."

Tim flushed with pleasure.

"Thanks. I'd better go."

He walked out of the house, feeling the same certainty of doing things right that he always got from meeting with them. If only he could feel this sure _all_ the time. At work, he always felt so conflicted about everything. Here...it all made sense.

Tim hurried home and got online just in time to start the discussion. He had three messages on his phone but he didn't even think to look at it. Instead, he spent the next two hours working on a difficult physics problem...and having a blast doing it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"_And every occasion when a mask was torn off, an ideal broken, was preceded by this hateful vacancy and stillness, this deathly constriction and loneliness and unrelatedness, this waste and empty hell of lovelessness and despair, such as I had now to pass through once more."_

_Hermann Hesse_

Again, they ended up having to resign the murder to the cold case files. They _knew_ the two murders had to be linked. They _knew_ there had to be more going on that met the eye, but the plain fact of the matter was that they had no leads, nothing to tell them just _what_ was going on. After weeks of struggling against it, they had to give up, hoping for something to tell them more, fearing that their next burst of information about it would come in the form of yet another murder.

Tim, for his part, had his worries soothed by the members of the group. He wanted the case solved, of course, but he was convinced that it wasn't going to be solved through his membership. They promised him that they were working on it, but they said that because of the continual fluctuating of their numbers, it was possible that someone else had followed the same broken link he had and then fled. Most of the time, that was enough...when he was on the site or with the group. The confusion and irritation he felt with his coworkers and friends led to his backing away from them and turning more and more to this group where things were less complicated. He spent more time on the site, working his way through seemingly-endless problems. In fact, he was part of a small circle of members who successfully solved one of the unsolvable math problems. When the story was published, under the name of one of the more prominent members, he felt a thrill at having contributed to the furthering of knowledge. Of course, he didn't share his part with anyone, not even when Abby talked to him about it (in an increasingly-rare moment of camaraderie). He didn't need outside accolades of an ignorant world. He had received a lot of congratulations for his part within the group itself. ...and being in on the solution had increased his level dramatically. His green light shone brightly at every meeting.

At first, the others at NCIS had been concerned about the change in Tim, but as his impatience with them became more and more overt, they began simply to be irritated and they stopped trying to get him to join their activities. They stopped interacting with him almost at all beyond work. ...and Tim's work never stopped being satisfactory...but that was all it was. He stopped making suggestions. He would do whatever was asked of him and do so with definite skill, but he didn't bother giving any theories. When asked to provide an idea, he either said he had none to give or else he strongly implied that they wouldn't accept it anyway. Gibbs was frustrated and had tried talking with him, even _threatening_ him, but to no avail.

It seemed like nothing bothered Tim anymore...and to a large degree, that was correct, but to Tim's own chagrine, it wasn't completely true. Every so often, he wondered why it was that no one cared about him anymore. He wondered why they had started resenting his greater intelligence. He would look after them wistfully when they went out for drinks after work without inviting him to come along. Once, he had even almost asked if they would mind if he came with them...but at the last second, he had stopped himself. He didn't want their pity. He was a near genius! He was doing amazing work! He was helping his real friends make incredible strides! What did he need these people for?

He told himself that, but it didn't stop him from occasionally wishing things were as they had been. He just couldn't figure out what had changed so drastically. As he neared the one-year anniversary of his membership, Tim was excited. He had been told that there would be some special events that would be held to mark his next ascension and the milestone. Emil hadn't advanced as quickly as Tim had, but he continued to seek out Tim's company at the meetings. In fact, a lot of people did. When they put on their masks and the connections became visible. Tim often had people connecting with him across the room. It made him feel good. He had never been popular before. To have so many clamoring for his attention was an amazing boost.

He should have known that it couldn't last.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"McGee! Let's go!"

"Huh?" Tim asked, surprised to be singled out. Gibbs _never_ singled him out. Not anymore...at least, not for anything good.

"There was a huge hack into the Pentagon. Navy wants to be sure that everything is intact. We're investigating. Come on."

Tim chanced a look at Tony and Ziva...both of whom avoided making eye contact. Could they really be resenting him for being asked to look into something they couldn't have done? Did their dislike of him go that far? Tim sighed, unable, for the moment, to be angry about it. He just grabbed his bag and sprinted after Gibbs who hadn't paused on his way to the elevator.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

When they reached the Pentagon, they were passed in and Tim was taken directly to one of the secured areas while Gibbs got details on what had happened.

"Hey, you the one from NCIS?" one of the techs asked when Tim sat down at a terminal.

"Yeah. Agent Tim McGee," Tim said.

The tech raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah...why?" Tim asked.

"No reason. I'm Loren Cabot. This is where I usually am...all day."

Tim smiled. "So...what happened?"

"I've never seen an attack like this one. It was crazy complicated. I'll show you the logs."

Loren brought up the events from that morning so that Tim could get a feel for what had happened. They chatted as they worked, trying to see what had been accessed, how much had been compromised.

"So...you ever go to chatrooms, Agent McGee?"

Tim shrugged as he looked through one of about a billion files. "Used to. Not so much in the last few months. Why?"

"You have a username you commonly use?"

Tim stopped his examination and looked at Loren. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, I don't know...maybe...McGeek?"

Tim blinked a few times. "Lor...en?"

Loren grinned. "I thought it must be you! Go figure we both live and work in DC! Haven't seen you around at all in nearly a year, man!"

Tim laughed incredulously. "I've been...pretty busy, just lost the time. You work here? For how long?"

"A few years...I guess, going on ten now. How you been?"

"Okay. Some things are great...others...have been getting worse."

"That sucks." Loren started to say something else when another attack began. "Whoa! Whoa!"

Tim whirled back to his computer and began fighting to repel the attack on the Pentagon's servers. It was hard going and there was no conversation as he and Loren and a couple of other techs worked frantically to preserve the integrity of the servers. Suddenly, Tim realized that he knew exactly how the attack was being done. He knew what steps were going to be taken.

He knew it because he himself had proposed something just like this only two weeks ago. ...to the leaders of the group at one of their meetings. His mind whirled unpleasantly and he began to feel distinctly sick...and confused...and...and horrified. ...but he was able to pull himself together briefly and anticipate what was coming next.

Loren exclaimed in surprise when Tim moved the exact spot the hackers tried to penetrate. When Tim began doing it again and again, the other techs were watching, almost in awe. ...but for once, Tim didn't care about that. He didn't care about anything other than stopping what he knew was his fault.

Then, the attack ended and Tim sat back in his chair, aware that he was sweating profusely...and shaking.

"Wow," Loren said. "I've _never_ seen anyone work like that, Tim. You really _are_ a genius."

Tim wanted to cry, but he managed a weak smile.

"Luck. That's all. Just...luck."

"That was more than luck," one of the other techs said. "It was like you were psychic! You want to come work here?"

Tim laughed shakily. "No. Thanks. I've got a job." _For how much longer?_

Loren laughed much more heartily. Everyone was so relieved that the hackers hadn't succeeded that they didn't notice how pale Tim was. They didn't notice that he was so far from thrilled he was almost the exact opposite. Finally, he stood up, feeling dizzy and shaky.

"Hey, Loren...I think I need to...use the head. Where is it?"

"Just outside the door, to your right. You okay?"

"Yeah...I haven't done that kind of thing in a while. It's a bit draining."

"Exhilarating is the word I'd use."

"I guess that's why I'm not a tech," Tim said.

He slipped out into the hall and then quickly into the men's room.

...where he promptly threw up. He was shaking when he stood up and walked to the sink. He turned on the water and splashed some on his face and neck. It calmed his outward panic but inside he was a mess of extreme emotions. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't tell anyone. He couldn't break the rule of secrecy. ...but he couldn't believe that this could be a coincidence. He couldn't pretend that someone else would have followed his plan so exactly.

_Why did I even do that?_ Tim asked himself for the first time. He couldn't even remember why it was that he had been willing to think up the perfect hack. What was the reason for it?

_It could be...something else. Someone else. It doesn't have to be...them... It..._

The urge to cry was stronger than ever. It was like he'd been stabbed in the back by his best friend in the world.

_What am I going to do?_

The bathroom door clanged open and Tim spun away from the mirror and walked determinedly toward the nearest stall. Without looking back, he stepped inside and locked the door.

"McGee?"

"Just a minute, Boss," Tim said and was surprised that he'd managed to keep his voice steady. He rubbed a shaking hand over his face and swallowed the desire to weep at the way his world was crashing down around his ears. He did his business and then came out.

"They said there was another hack."

"They didn't get in this time," Tim said. "We managed to keep them out...just barely."

"You think they'll try again?"

"I don't know. Depends on what they want...how cautious they are."

"And?"

"And what?"

"What do you think?"

"Uh...I don't know."

Gibbs' expression hardened. "McGee, part of your job is making educated guesses based on what you know. Don't give me you don't know. Who in the world do you think is better qualified to guess?"

Tim felt his heart rate increase and his stomach clench. He just managed to keep himself from throwing up again.

"They were...willing to try once and succeed to some degree. They know we saw them the second time."

"And?"

Tim thought about everything he knew about the group.

_Maybe it's not them!_ his mind cried out.

"McGee?"

"They didn't try until they were pretty sure they would get in. The...the...methods they used were...not cautious. They were...sure. The caution came before. Since...we stopped them once...maybe they'll...try to reg-group before they try again."

"You think they will some time?"

Tim nodded. "They obviously want something."

"Obviously. Why are you so nervous?"

"It's...the...Pentagon, Boss! This isn't...nothing. It's important."

Gibbs rolled his eyes and Tim felt some return of his irritation.

"Is that everything, Boss?" he asked, more calmly. He could check this out. He could investigate without anyone else knowing. He could see whether or not he'd been betrayed again.

Gibbs' eyes narrowed slightly as if he'd noticed Tim's sudden calming and found it suspicious.

_Not everyone is like you, Boss,_ Tim said silently. _Sometimes, we do things for good reasons._

"Check with those guys in there and see what they need. If they're confident they don't need you, then, we'll go."

Tim nodded and eased passed Gibbs.

"McGee."

"Yeah, Boss?"

"I don't know why you're refusing to help us, but if you don't get over that, you're going to find yourself out of a job."

Tim stiffened, but he didn't say a word. He just went back into the computer room. Loren and the other techs agreed that whoever the hackers were, they probably wouldn't try again anytime soon, but Loren told Tim that he hoped he'd see him on the chatroom sometime. Tim nodded, but doubted it would happen. Then, he and Gibbs went back to NCIS.

Tony and Ziva went for dinner but didn't talk to Tim at all. Tim was glad of it this time. After the bullpen emptied slightly, he started his own private investigation. First, he sent requests to Metro, asking if they'd had any bizarre murders in the last...year or so. Then, he went through each step of the hackers' process...both times. He didn't really need to. He could see it very simply, but he did it anyway, wanting to be absolutely certain. It wouldn't be good if he accused his friends without cause.

After a few minutes of nailbiting, Tim decided to call a friend of his at the FBI. She wasn't an agent, just another tech, but she could answer his questions. As he had suspected, after berating him for being out of contact for so long, she was more than happy to help him out so long as he didn't ask for anything classified.

"_Okay, Tim. I've got five unsolved crimes that fit your 'bizarre' characterization."_

"Five? Murders?"

"_Oh, did you only want murders?"_

"No. That's fine. What do you have?"

"_I've got three burglaries, all done without any indication of how the people got into and out of the buildings."_

"Stealing what?"

"_That's classified. Science-y type stuff. The two murders are the same. No witnesses. No evidence. No motive. It's like a truly random killing by some Joe Blow off the street."_

"Then, why was the FBI investigating?"

"_Easy. Local LEOs were stumped. FBI can be called in any time that happens and they want the extra resources we have."_

"Right. No signs of any headway being made?"

"_Nope. Cold cases, all of them. Why?"_

"I'm thinking there might be a connection to some crimes we're investigating over here, but I'm not sure right now. I just want to get all my ducks in a row before I attempt to make a claim."

"_Well, if you need anything else, you'll have to go through official channels. You know how it is."_

"I do. Thanks a lot."

"_No problem, Tim. Talk to you later."_

"Bye." Tim hung up and then jumped a little when his computer beeped that he'd got an emailed response from Metro. There was an attachment...a large attachment. He hesitated and then opened the file. As he perused the contents, he began to feel queasy again.

Not just queasy. He felt like he was suffocating. He had to get some air.

Tim leapt to his feet and ran down the stairs and out the main doors, across Sicard Street and to Willard Park. He sat down with a thump on a nearby bench. He leaned forward and rested his head in his hands.

_What am I going to do now?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"_One deceit needs many others, and so the whole house is built in the air and must soon come to the ground."  
><em>_Baltasar Gracian_

Ducky was heading home for the day, having finished his own work. There were times when he was kept (or chose to stay) as late as the MCRT, but not tonight. As he walked out of the building, he looked idly around and noticed Tim pacing back and forth in Willard Park. He seemed thoroughly agitated.

Now, Ducky had little sympathy left for Tim after the last few months of veiled putdowns and outright rudeness, but as he watched, Tim suddenly stopped pacing and sat down on a bench, looking dejected.

Stifling a sigh, Ducky decided he would attempt one last time to express some polite concern. He walked across the street and into the park.

"Timothy?"

Tim jumped but he didn't turn around.

"Yeah?"

Ducky was surprised. Tim sounded like he either had a head cold or he'd been crying. Considering how little time Ducky had spent in his company, he knew it could be either...but he had a suspicion it was the latter.

"Is something wrong?"

"No. Nothing. I'm fine."

Gone was the antagonism, the self-assurance...the _arrogance _of the previous few months. What was left was...a young man who was clearly having an extremely bad day.

"You don't _sound _fine, if you don't mind my saying so."

"I don't mind. I'm fine."

"Very well. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye."

Tim's head dropped lower, but he still hadn't turned around. Ducky paused and then walked over to the bench and sat down beside him. Tim stiffened slightly and turned his face away, but not quite fast enough.

"What's wrong, Timothy?"

"Nothing..." He sighed. "Everything. I'm so...confused."

"About what?" Ducky asked, surprised that Tim was saying anything at all.

"Gibbs threatened to fire me today. No one likes me anymore. ...and...other things."

Ducky's eyes widened. He hadn't heard that Tim had been performing his tasks at unacceptable levels in spite of his distasteful attitude.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. He was very clear."

"Why?"

Tim just shrugged. Apparently, there were limits to his confidences.

"Well, regarding your second point, I'm surprised that you even noticed, quite frankly. You've not been behaving in a...shall we say, a likeable manner. Nor have you intimated that you cared _what_ we thought."

Tim's shoulders hunched slightly.

"What is this really about, Timothy? Your first two observations or the last...very vague one?"

"Mostly...the last."

"And you wish to keep it vague, I take it?"

"I have to."

"Why?"

"I just do!" Tim sat up and looked at Ducky, his eyes still red. "I have...work to do. Thanks for asking, Ducky. I've got to go."

"Where?"

Tim suddenly gave a strange smile.

"I have work to do." His eyes tracked away from Ducky's face to something that only he could see. His smile changed and he stood up. "Work." He nodded and then walked away.

Ducky stood up.

"Timothy!" he called. "Timothy!"

Tim didn't pause, didn't slow down. He kept walking. Ducky watched him disappear back into the building. Up to this very moment, he had seen Tim's changed attitude as an annoyance and a sign that Tim wasn't the man Ducky thought he was. Now, he was seeing something else. Tim seemed to be torn about what to do...and there was something else going on, something that had elicited that strange...distant smile.

Ducky was actually a bit worried by Tim's behavior. He sat himself down on the bench Tim had vacated and considered. Gibbs was apparently close to firing Tim. Tim had suddenly become aware that everyone disliked him. ...and these _other_ things. What other things could they be? Suddenly, Ducky wondered what Tim had been doing with his time in the last year...ever since he'd started to change.

"Ducky?" Tony called. "What are you doing?"

Ducky looked over at Tony and Ziva who were returning to the building. He contemplated whether or not he should reveal Tim's sudden change.

"Just thinking about life, Anthony."

"Why there?"

Ducky decided. He needed to talk to Gibbs about this, but it could wait until tomorrow.

"I can think as well here as elsewhere. Contemplation can occur in any location."

Ziva laughed. "That it can."

"Are you in for a late night?" Ducky asked.

"Probably not. Besides, Mr. Genius is in there and Gibbs doesn't keep us really late unless it's necessary when he's around," Tony said.

"Yes," Ziva agreed. "I am hoping Gibbs will send us home soon."

Ducky smiled, but inside, he was wondering how Tim felt about that. Again, for the first time in a while.

"I wish you luck."

"Thanks, Ducky," Tony said and waved as they headed inside.

Ducky watched them go and then sighed to himself...and headed home.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony grimaced when he got off the elevator and saw Tim sitting at his computer...as always. He didn't even look up when Tony and Ziva approached. Then, he looked more closely at Tim. He looked pale...maybe even a bit sickly.

He nudged Ziva and jerked his head Tim's direction. She looked and a brief expression of concern passed over her face. Then, she shrugged and went to her desk without saying anything. Tony followed suit.

They were only at work themselves for a few minutes before Tim stood up, carried a piece of paper over to Gibbs' desk, walked back to his own desk, picked up his bag and headed for the elevator.

"Where are you going, McGee?" Tony asked.

"Home," Tim said without even pausing.

Tony looked at Ziva who raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"McGee, I do not think Gibbs has let us go."

Tim halted briefly but didn't look at either of them.

"He hasn't."

Then, he kept walking. The elevator doors opened to let him on and then closed behind him.

Tony looked at Ziva.

"What was that about?"

"I have no idea," she said and then stood up. She walked over to Gibbs' desk and looked at the paper. "It is a request for sick leave."

"He wasn't looking his best," Tony said, "but he didn't look _that_ bad."

Ziva held out the form. "It looks as though he changed his mind about sick leave and is taking leave without pay."

"Huh. Weird. Well, I guess he's decided what he's doing...and he'll have to face Gibbs' wrath. I'm glad it's not me." He put the paper back on Gibbs' desk and went on with his work.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim came into his apartment feeling a distinct measure of relief. As he'd widened the distance between himself and NCIS, he began to feel calmer. There had to be an explanation for this. There _had_ to be. Something logical, something that would show him that it was all a mistake, that he had jumped to the wrong conclusion.

_If you really believe that, why are you planning on hacking into the site?_

Tim winced at the thought, but he had to do it. He had to prove to himself that it was a mistake. Then, he could go back to work and not worry about it anymore. Until he satisfied himself, he was going to feel as though he was being pulled in many directions at once. He didn't like the dissonance in his head.

He pet Jethro, fed him and then sat down at his computer. Instead of logging into the site, he came at it from a different direction, with a different IP address. He was going to attempt to fool the site into thinking he had more access than he actually did, but he knew that his presence would be noted as soon as he entered if he went in normally. He figured they must keep track of all the traffic on the site. That meant he needed to hide himself, fool the program into thinking he wasn't there.

He could see that it was going to take a long time. That was why he had requested leave. He could work on it all night if he needed to, and he could still get on the site as himself and make his presence known. If he didn't get on at all, they'd wonder where he was.

_You're betraying them. You're a traitor._

Tim winced at what his mind was saying. He _felt_ like a traitor. ...but the problem was that right now he didn't know who was being betrayed. Was it NCIS? Was it this group? Was he betraying himself? Tim didn't know. ...and he wondered when it had happened that he was so uncertain about everything. Hadn't he played a huge role in solving a math problem? Hadn't he given loads of important ideas to the group? Why, then, was it that he couldn't even decide what was going on right now?

"I don't get it, Jethro. Why am I so confused?" Tim asked aloud.

Jethro barked once and Tim just sighed. Then, he focused back on the site. Maybe he should cover himself a bit more. He nodded and started putting together another computer, one that he could use for his clandestine investigations while simultaneously being present on the site itself. That would confuse the issue a bit more.

_Traitor!_

Tim hesitated.

_No. I have to know._

Building computers was something he'd been doing for years...and his work over the last little while had only increased his speed. It took about an hour, but he had enough spare parts that he could cobble a very fast computer together. It would never win prizes for beauty, but he didn't care about that. No one would be seeing this computer. He just needed it for today.

He swallowed as he waited for it to boot up completely. He was terrified of what he was about to do, afraid of what he'd find.

_No. They wouldn't be doing anything wrong! They wouldn't! They're just trying to..._

Here, his mind faltered. What _was_ it exactly that they were trying to do? ...and why had he never asked the question before? He took a deep breath and logged onto the site on his own computer. He felt so guilty. It almost amazed him that they couldn't tell he was betraying them. Why couldn't they see into his soul...like the masks seemed to make possible?

He began tapping his molars together as he typed...grateful that there was no live chat going tonight. He didn't need that added stress.

Jethro padded over and put his head on Tim's lap. Tim spared a moment to pet him.

"Well...you've never seen me pull an all-nighter, Jethro. I'm about to do it...for the first time since grad school, probably." Tim tried to smile but the weak attempt vanished with his exhalation. "What am I going to find?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Jethro?"

Gibbs barely looked up. He was irritated. Irritated enough that he had begun filling out a form requesting the termination of the employ of one Timothy McGee. He had tried. He really had tried to get through to Tim, but this latest request was the utter limit. Tim had gone too far. At the very least, he needed a good scare.

The problem was that he was trying to fill it out on his computer and he just wasn't very good at this stuff. So his irritation was growing by leaps and bounds.

"Jethro!"

"What, Ducky?" he asked.

"I wish to speak with you about Timothy...before the others arrive."

Gibbs finally looked up.

"What about him?"

"I'm worried."

"Why? You figure out that I'm going to fire him already?"

"It wasn't an idle threat, then?"

"No. It wasn't."

"Oh. Well, that wasn't what I was concerned about."

"Then, what?"

"I believe that Timothy may be involved in something he's not been telling us."

"Like what?"

"Oh, I have no idea, but I ran into him yesterday evening, and he was very upset. He said he couldn't talk about it."

Gibbs sighed in frustration. "You know what, Duck? I've worked with him. I've tried to deal with his attitude, but I can't. If he's involved in something else...then he's welcome to it, as far as I'm concerned."

"Even if that something is the cause of his change?"

"Unless he's being secretly dosed with some drug, Ducky, I can't see that his attitude is anything but voluntary...unless you know something I don't."

Ducky smiled. "I don't. He was unwilling to confide in me that far...but I did get a sense of regret from him."

"Too little, too late," Gibbs snapped.

"If you feel it's necessary to fire him, by all means, it's not my place to question...but perhaps you could try speaking with him? He seemed more...open to persuasion last night than he has in a good long while. For the sake of who he was before...maybe you could try?"

Gibbs took a breath and leaned back in his chair. If he were honest, he didn't really _want_ to fire Tim. He just couldn't see any other alternative.

"Well, he's not coming in today, Duck. He filled out a leave request form and didn't bother to get any clearance on it."

"Oh."

"...but after work, I'll try. ...but this is the last time, Ducky. I'm not going to bother with him if he blows me off again. Got it?"

"Completely."

Gibbs nodded and gratefully quit trying to fill in the blanks that were supposedly there to be filled in. He had his doubts that the form really worked at all. When Tony and Ziva arrived, he didn't mention Ducky's request, but he filed it away in his brain for later perusal.

...and then focused on figuring out who had tried to hack into the Pentagon.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

There was a man alone. Two computers sat with a recently vacated chair in front of them. It was morning. About the time that most people were getting up...but this man had not slept at all. Now, he was sitting on the floor of his bedroom, staring vacantly at the wall, his mind, his will...his ego...all were in tatters. The horror of his discovery had momentarily stunned him into immobility.

His mouth was open slightly and he was breathing too quickly, the air moving in out through his mouth. There was a slight whistling sound because his hands were pressed tightly against his teeth. His eyes were open so wide that they appeared to be bulging out of his head. Jethro nudged his face, but Tim wasn't paying attention. His mind was wholly engaged in a thorough examination of everything that had happened in the last year, correlating it to the things he'd found on the site...all those horrible things. Advanced weaponry. Chemical warfare. ...and the plans. Tim's mind shuddered and he felt sick. He didn't know which was worse: the plans themselves or the fact that he could see so many of his own ideas incorporated into them?

It was like he'd had a brick wall built up in his mind, keeping the real world out...and now it had fallen. ...no, it had _imploded_. He could see so clearly now every aspect of his idiocy. ...and it hurt. He could see that he had been so totally sucked in that he might as well have pulled the trigger on those two men himself. He might as well have done the hacking himself. It was all his fault.

And if they managed to do anything else, it would be his fault as well. That meant only one thing. He had to stop them. Somehow. He wasn't sure what to do...but he knew he couldn't tell anyone. Not only did everyone hate him (deservedly so, he now could say), there was the rule of secrecy. Gibbs had a rule about secrets and the group had a rule about secrecy. Don't tell anyone. Then, too, Gibbs had a rule about cleaning up your own mess.

"This is _my_ mess," Tim whispered.

Jethro whined at him again, and Tim finally moved his gaze from the wall to his dog.

"My mess, Jethro. Mine."

He swallowed.

"If I don't stop them...no one will."

Tim closed his eyes and saw, in his mind's eye, all those people he had thought were his friends. He also saw himself and was disgusted. Determined now, he opened his eyes and got to his feet. Quickly, he walked to his computer and began planning what he was going to do to stop this group from waging war on the United States.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"_Who knows what true loneliness is - not the conventional word but the naked terror? To the lonely themselves it wears a mask. The most miserable outcast hugs some memory or some illusion." _

_Joseph Conrad _

Gibbs' phone rang right near the end of the day. Tony and Ziva barely stifled a groan as they looked up. As he reached out to answer it, Gibbs took a moment to notice how much more relaxed the atmosphere was when Tim was not around. How had that happened? That reinforced his decision to let Tim go. This was a high-stress job. They needed places where they could relax. If they couldn't do it here, it was a problem.

"Gibbs," he said tersely.

"_Agent Gibbs, would you mind telling me why you're having your agents sneaking around and talking to my tech people, getting information about cold cases?"_

"Are you being rhetorical, Fornell?" Gibbs asked.

"_No. I'm perfectly serious. You had Agent McGee..."_ Fornell broke off for a moment. Then, he was back. _"Correction. Your Agent McGee was in contact with Sandy Hawkins, asking her about quote-unquote _bizarre_ cases. She swears that she didn't give him any details, but I'd like to know what's going on over there."_

"What did she tell him?" Gibbs asked, more than a little bewildered by what Fornell was saying.

"_Ms. Hawkins?"_

A nervous-sounding woman got on the line.

"_Um...Agent...Gibbs?"_

"What did you tell Agent McGee?"

"_He said he needed more evidence before he brought anything up officially. I only gave him the barebones outlines! I swear!"_

"What did you tell him?"

"_That there have been five cases in the last year. Three burglaries and two murders. All cold cases, all without evidence of how the crimes had been committed or the motive for them. I didn't tell him anything else!"_

"When did he get this from you?"

"_Last night."_

"Did he tell you anything?"

"_Nothing. It was the first time I'd heard from him in months. I guess he was too busy, but he wasn't even chatting online."_

"Hmmm...put Agent Fornell back on, please."

"_Okay."_

Gibbs waited.

"_Well?"_

"He wasn't doing this because I asked him to. I'm just as in the dark as you are, Tobias."

"_Why don't you ask him then?"_

"Because he's not here."

"_Jethro, I hope that one day you'll catch up to the modern world. There are these things called cell phones, and I'll bet your boy is never more than an inch away from his...if that."_

Gibbs rolled his eyes and hung up. He then dialed Tim's number. It rang...and rang...and rang...and went to voice mail. Gibbs felt his frustration build up again. He had a rule about being unreachable. He slammed the phone down.

"Get Abby up here to get on McGee's computer," he said.

For a moment, both Tony _and_ Ziva just stared at him in surprise.

"Did you go deaf?" he asked.

"No, Boss!" Tony said instantly and called Abby up.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Present..._

Tim took a deep breath and got out of the car. He had parked a few blocks away from the house. Now, he was trying to be stealthy...never one of his strong suits. With a pang, he remembered, with mixture of embarrassment and nostalgia, the day that he and Ziva had been sneaking across a playground...and his shoes were new and squeaking.

Now, his shoes were quiet. His heart was pounding...and he had his gun in his pocket. He didn't know what to expect when he got to the house. He didn't even know for sure if this really was their headquarters. It had _seemed_ to be, but it wasn't as though he could ask them.

He had to stop for a moment when he thought of that. It was a tragedy that he'd lost them. A large part of him wished that he didn't think they were wrong. He wished that he could just put all that he'd found aside and go along with whatever they planned...because doing so would be easier...but he couldn't do that. He had to do what was right. ...and they weren't right.

As he thought that, he paused, almost expecting (again) that they would hear his traitorous thoughts. They seemed to be everywhere...in everything.

_You're being stupid again. Big surprise. They're not omniscient. Get going and clean up your mess!_

Tim began to hurry through the trees. He knew that there was an alarm system on the house. He was ready for that. Finally, he broke onto the back lawn...and was shocked to see that the lights were on in the house. A meeting? Tonight?

_Duh! Last of the month! There's _always_ a meeting on the last night of the month!_

Tim cursed his stupidity. Again, he wondered how he could be so smart and so incredibly stupid at the same time. He pulled back into the trees and quickly ran to his car. He dug into the trunk to make sure he had his mask.

There it was. He was glad he'd been so compulsive about making sure it was there. He got into the car and sat for a few minutes, calming himself down and changing his plans. He couldn't change it. What if tonight was the night they decided to kill someone else? He would just have to be careful. Every member was incredibly intelligent, but it was Tim who had the most facility with computers. He could see now that they had encouraged him so much because of that. It wasn't his intelligence they wanted. It was his skill.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Whoa!" Abby exclaimed. "What is all this stuff from Metro?"

"Huh?" Tony asked.

"Tim has this huge file on...cold cases from Metro over the last year. It looks like they sent him everything they had."

Gibbs walked over and leaned over Abby's shoulder.

"Put it on the plasma."

Abby nodded and did so. They all looked as she began scrolling through the files.

"I think these would count as bizarre, yes?" Ziva suggested.

"Yeah," Tony agreed. "Look at these burglaries! Software companies, hardware companies, Internet providers...and a hack into a local power company? What is all this?"

"Not just burglaries," Abby said. "At least three murders. One with no cause of death, just a suspicion of homicide."

Gibbs looked at the cases. Why did Tim want these? Why bizarre crimes from the FBI and Metro?

"Hey...Boss...I just had a weird thought."

"Big surprise," Ziva said with a smile.

"Ha ha. What if McGee was thinking all these crimes are linked to those two cold cases of ours, the two murders? They would qualify as bizarre."

Gibbs considered.

"Abby, put the power company hack up. Can you figure out what was hacked?"

"No. Not from this. They looked into it, but they couldn't ever find exactly what was taken or changed."

"What if they didn't take anything?"

"Then, why would they hack into the company servers?" Ziva asked.

"To _hide_ something...like power usage."

Abby grinned. "I like the devious way you think, Gibbs. I wish I could bring myself to do that with _my_ power bill. Some months, I swear my computer and stereo just _suck_ up power."

"Abby, could you find out if there were any accounts which suddenly...had much smaller bills?"

"If I had access to the company servers. You're not going to get anyone to give you that at this hour."

"Perhaps you could...hack into them?"

"McGee's better at that than I am, you know."

"He's not here, Abbs," Tony said.

"Well, I _know_ that much, Tony. I know he's been a big jerk lately, but you _could_ call him in."

"He's not answering his phone," Gibbs said. "See what you can do. Tony, Ziva, get looking through those Metro files. See if you can find something that ties to our cases."

"What about you, Boss?" Tony asked.

"I've got a visit to make," Gibbs said darkly and stalked toward the elevator.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim pulled up to the house and got out, holding his mask, wondering if he could really do what he was about to attempt. He wondered how it could be that they hadn't already killed him, that they didn't know exactly what he was planning.

_Why don't they already know?_

Still, he walked up to the front door, verified his identity via voice print, and then stepped inside. He saw instantly that he was a little late. Everyone was already in their masks, meaning that no one person could be identified. He watched them all for a while. The continually morphing faces were fascinating to look at...but he shook himself and put on his mask and instantly saw the continually shifting ribbons of light. His own bright, bright green which formerly had given him a sense of pride now only shamed him. He was a traitor. He was about to destroy all this.

His resolve began to weaken. What if he was wrong? He'd apparently already screwed up royally. What if he was wrong about this, too? What if they weren't really trying to–?

_You know that they are. They didn't hide anything in those secret areas of the site._

Tim knew it, but he was having such a hard time steeling himself to do these things. He squared his shoulders and headed to one of the empty computer terminals. Once he sat down, he turned off his aura. That was the signal that he was working on something and needed solitude. Everyone understood that sometimes great breakthroughs were achieved in solitary conditions...as long as the breakthroughs were then shared. Only the higher ranks were allowed to do this. They had proved that they were trustworthy.

At that thought, Tim winced and took a deep breath. He _wasn't _trustworthy. He was a traitor. He hated himself for what he was about to do...but if he was lucky, he supposed that he'd only feel that self-loathing for a brief period. Quickly, he logged into the site and then began typing. This wasn't his show-off rate of work. When he wanted people to be able to follow what he did and yet still be impressed, he slowed down his usual programming speed. This time, he didn't want anyone to know what it was he was doing; so he began working at a much faster speed. All he wanted was to get this virus into the files, a virus that would freeze everything...not destroy it. If he simply froze it all, they couldn't get anything to work but the evidence would be there for law enforcement.

_Traitor!_

Tim winced again at the thought, but he tried to focus. This was his only chance.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs stormed up the stairs to Tim's apartment and then pounded on the door. He heard Jethro start barking inside and he bent over to pick the lock...only to find that the door itself was _not_ locked at all. Some of his anger faded and he opened the door.

Jethro came bounding over to him, excited to have company. Gibbs spared a second to greet the dog but then he caught a glimpse of two things that made him slightly worried.

Tim had left his badge and his phone on the counter. He seemed to have left them very carefully in that place. Jethro was too calm and playful to indicate trouble, but Gibbs pulled out his gun anyway. He walked quickly through the apartment, checking to see that it was vacant. It was.

...but Tim had left his badge and not his gun. Finally, Gibbs' eyes fell on the cobbled-together computer. He didn't know why it was that Tim had a computer with two monitors and then another one set up in a clearly-makeshift fashion. How many computer did one guy need? Then, he noticed what looked like blueprints, and notes on the blueprints.

The house was large. In fact, Gibbs would go so far as to call it a mansion. Curious, he picked up the blueprints and squinted at Tim's sloppy scrawl.

There were notes about power sources, about a set of computers in a large ballroom. Notes about some sort of alarm, but there was a word Gibbs could swear was _voice_, but he didn't know what that meant. Confused, Gibbs began looking through the other papers strewn around the floor. As he bent over to pick up one sheet right beside the desk, he jostled the table...and woke the computer up.

The two monitors came back to life, showing their contents to the world. Gibbs' eyes widened and he pulled out his phone.

"Tony, grab Abby and get to McGee's apartment. Now. Why? Because McGee is either ready to destroy something or kill someone...and probably himself in the process. Get over here."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"_To act on the belief that we possess the knowledge and the power which enable us to shape the processes of society entirely to our liking, knowledge which in fact we do not possess, is likely to make us do much harm."  
><em>_Friedrich August Hayek_

"Can you do it or not, Abby?" Gibbs demanded.

"I don't know, Gibbs!" Abby said. "You're asking me to hack someone who knows all about hackers. Tim is really not stupid for all that he's been acting like it the last few months. He knows how to stop things like that! He knows how to keep people out!"

"Abby, he didn't bother to lock his door when he left. He left his badge. He left his phone. Maybe he didn't care enough to lock his computer."

"Not his gun, Boss?" Tony asked.

"No. Not his gun. He took that with him."

Ziva was looking at the plans.

"It is a clumsy plan," she said, "but he was clearly trying to figure out how to get inside this house, and he seems to know all the outs and ins..."

"Ins and outs," Tony corrected.

"What difference does it make?"

"None."

"Then, why–? Never mind. He seems to know this house very well. He has furnishings inside labeled."

"Well, I can't tell exactly _what _he was doing, but I can tell you where Tim has been for the last...wow, almost a year."

"Where?" Tony asked.

"Right here in this seat. Up until today, his browser history is almost exclusively one site. No games. No real random surfing. Just one site."

"What is it?"

"Don't know. It requires a log-in even to get onto the front page. Members only...and I can't figure out how to get in behind the scenes. It's locked up tight."

"Okay, doesn't matter _what_ that site is. What matters is where he's going now...and that seems to be this house. Can you figure out where this house is?"

Tony took it and looked at it carefully.

"Hey, wait! I know where this house is!"

"You recognize the house by the blueprints?" Ziva asked a bit incredulously.

"Yes...and you know where it is, too!"

"No, I do not."

Tony held up the blueprints again, the streetview of the house. "Look again. You do. Actually we all should recognize it. Don't you remember? About five years ago...some rich guy came and made a shady deal to get his hands on some property in the wildlife preserve south of Alexandria. There was a huge stink about it because it wasn't supposed to be up for sale. He even got taken to court...but he won...and built this huge house there!"

"Oh, yeah!" Abby said. "And he sold it three years ago to someone else! One of those environmental groups tried to block the sale but didn't make it."

"Address?"

"I can get it for you right here!" Abby said. She started to type and then paused. "Why is Tim going there?"

"I don't know."

"Is he going there as an agent or–?" Ziva asked.

Gibbs looked grim. "He left his badge. He's not going as an agent, but I don't know why he's going."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim struggled to keep working against his own guilty conscience. He had paused once, saved his place and then gone and joined the others for one of the ceremonies. Emil was increasing his level.

He watched with a bitter smile, played his part and then hobnobbed for a few minutes. Emil was so excited. Tim wanted to cry, knowing that all this was going to be meaningless after tonight.

Then, he excused himself and went back to the computer and turned off his aura again. He had only been working for about an hour when the lights began to flash in a peculiar sequence, one he'd never seen before but one he knew nevertheless. They all knew it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They pulled up to the enormous house, surrounded by trees. ...with the front drive full of cars.

"Wow. Having a party, you think?" Tony asked.

Gibbs pulled out his gun.

"So...no party?"

_Thwack!_

"McGee came here with _his_ gun. Whether he's doing it for the right reasons or the wrong ones, we should be ready. Ziva, call for backup, tell them we're not sure what we're getting into."

Ziva nodded and sat back in the car. Gibbs looked around the yard.

"There's McGee's car."

"So he _is _here...not sneaking inside. Why make the plans if he could just go in?"

Gibbs shrugged. Ziva got out.

"They are on their way."

"Good. Let's go."

They walked together up to the front door. A camera dropped down and scanned them all.

"_Image not in database. Voice print identification required."_

"Voice print?" Tony asked. "What the heck is that?"

"I have no idea," Ziva murmured.

"_Voice print not in database." _Then, suddenly, the mechanical voice increased dramatically in volume. _"BREACH! BREACH! BREACH! BREACH!"_

The gates behind them closed and strobe lights began to flash. Gibbs looked briefly at Tony and Ziva and then nodded. No retreat.

"Take cover!"

The three of them charged into the house, into the flashing lights.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim looked up as the voice warned them of a breach. Instantly, the lights went down. Strobe lights began flashing, but they were all filtered by the mask lenses. Breach? Everyone was running around, preparing for attack...and Tim himself almost did the same...but then, he hesitated. Who was invading? What were they trying to do?

Emil ran over and grabbed Tim by the arm.

"Come on, Tim! Hurry! It's just like they told us! The world is trying to get rid of the people who know how to think! They're trying to stop us from having any kind of influence. They don't want us to improve things! Hurry up! We have to get armed! It's time to fight back!"

Tim let himself be dragged away from the computer. In no time at all, it seemed, he had one of the energy weapons he'd seen plans for...the same weapon he suspected had been used to kill a sailor. He looked at it and then at Emil. He couldn't see Emil's face because of the mask, but he recognized him by his aura. Everyone's auras were brighter than usual, the brilliance increased so that they could identify each other.

"I know it's scary, Tim, but we have to defend ourselves. We can't let them win against us!"

Tim nodded, wishing he could just go along as a big part of himself wanted to. He followed behind Emil and then stopped dead in his tracks.

"Federal agents! Drop your weapons!"

He recognized the voices.

"Oh no," Tim whispered. "It's them."

Now, he didn't know what to do. It was his team...the people who hated him. ...but had _he _started hating _them_ first? He couldn't even remember now. His whole life stuttered to a halt in the middle of the entrance hall. He could see them clear as day, trying desperately to hold off the 40 people firing on them, people who had no trouble seeing where they were.

_They're going to be killed._

He began to take a few steps back, heading for the computer again. He had to change his plans one more time.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What's going on, Boss?" Tony asked. "I can't see a thing!"

"They are having no trouble seeing _us_," Ziva said. She fired and was rewarded with a cry of pain.

...a cry that was quickly echoed by Tony.

"Ow! What was _that_?"

Ziva peered through the annoying lighting and gasped. Tony's jacket looked like it _had _been burned. ...as had the skin underneath it.

"They shot at me...and...and it burned me!" Tony met her gaze and was clearly thinking the same thing. "Remember those...laser guns McGee mentioned a few months back?"

"Not lasers."

"Whatever. If these nuts have got them, I'm not letting them burn another hole in me!" He took aim and fired...and hit.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim typed at a furious rate, but then he heard cries of pain and he stopped, completely distracted by what was going on out there. People were getting hurt!

He jumped to his feet and saw three or four of his friends injured or dead. Then, he saw Emil aiming...at Gibbs. Gibbs clearly didn't realize that...and Emil didn't seem to have any compunction about killing.

Tim looked at Emil and then looked at Gibbs. Which one?

Emil lifted the gun and was ready to pull the trigger.

...and Tim pulled out his own gun and shot Emil...in the back. His eyes filled with tears as Emil pitched forward onto the floor and lay motionless.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, the tears clouding up his lenses. "I'm so sorry. No one else was supposed to die."

Then, Tim turned back and saw the glowing white light of their leader. He'd already killed his closest friend. What was one more? He fired...and the white light fell to the floor. Then, he ran back into the ballroom and sat down at the computer. It took less than five minutes to shut down the masks, the lights, the auras...everything. He opened the gate so that the team could retreat rather than being forced to fight back against the overwhelming odds.

Then, he headed back to the entrance hall.

He didn't make it very far.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The strobe lights stopped and the regular lights came back on. Before Gibbs, Tony and Ziva could do anything more than register what had happened, the gate opened behind them, admitting Lovitz and his team...who came in firing.

The energy weapons stopped...but their attackers proved that they weren't above using conventional weaponry. Bullets started flying, but it was also clear that they weren't nearly so adept at firing guns. The NCIS agents began picking them off, wounding many. Others began running away. Another NCIS team came in from the back and caught them. After a lot of yelling and shouting, the firing stopped...and Tony, Ziva and Gibbs came out from their hiding places, looking around the room.

"Wow. What was going on here?" Tony asked, his voice low. "Who _were_ these people? And what's with the masks?"

"We need to find the survivors," Gibbs said.

They nodded and began checking.

"Where's McGee?" Tony asked in the silence. "His car is here. I didn't see him. Does that mean he's..."

"One of these..." Ziva finished, looking at the motionless bodies on the floor.

Gibbs didn't answer. They slowly worked their way across the floor. A few were still alive, but most that weren't moving were dead. None of them had expected this when they came to house.

As they pulled off the strange-looking masks, what they found was that almost all of them were relatively young.

"They look like geeks," Tony said.

"What does a geek look like?" Ziva asked.

"Like this," Tony said, staring at a man who was probably in his late twenties. "Which of us got this one, do you think?"

"I do not know," Ziva said. "But I suppose we may find out."

"Yeah."

Tony got up and walked to a body that was apart from the others. There was a tear in the mask along the top. Bullet graze. It looked like at least two other bullet wounds. He checked for a pulse.

"This one is still alive, Boss," he called. "Better get another ambulance."

He pulled off the mask and his eyes widened.

"Get it here fast," he said and rolled the man over onto his back.

He groaned.

"What is it, Tony?" Ziva asked.

"It's McGee!"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"_One should rather die than be betrayed. There is no deceit in death. It delivers precisely what it has promised. Betrayal, though...  
>...betrayal is the willful slaughter of hope." <em>

_Nai Steven Deitz_

Tony began searching for any other wounds. He touched Tim's side and Tim groaned again and curled into a fetal position. That revealed his other wound. A shot to the back on the right side.

"First aid kit!" he called.

Ziva ran over with it and helped Tony press down on the two serious wounds. Tim cried out and weakly tried to move away from the pain.

"Stay still, McGee. We're keeping you from bleeding to death," Tony muttered.

Tim's eyes fluttered open as he began to wheeze.

"You're...not...supposed to be...here," he said weakly.

"Yeah, well, we are, like it or not," Tony said. "So shut up and let us save your ungrateful hide."

"Tony," Ziva said warningly.

"He was in a mask," Tony said. "He was probably one of the ones shooting at us."

"No..." Tim said and reached out for Tony's jacket. "No...not...you..."

Then, inexplicably, Tim's face crumpled and he began to cry...and then moan as Ziva renewed the pressure on his bleeding side.

"Not...you..." he whimpered.

Gibbs knelt down beside them. Tim looked at him as the sound of wheezing got worse.

"You...okay...Boss?" Tim asked. "They...didn't get...you?"

"We're all fine, McGee."

"Good. Didn't...want...this..."

Tim's eyes closed, but he continued to wheeze.

"What happened here, McGee?" Ziva asked.

Tim struggled to get a deep breath...struggled and failed. It was clear that one of the bullets must have pierced his lung.

"'Knowledge...is...power...' Ziva..."

By the time the ambulance arrived, Tim was no longer conscious. Even with both Tony and Ziva struggling to control the bleeding, Tim was fading quickly. The EMTs evaluated him and then took him away ahead of all the other wounded. They watched him vanish and then, after a few seconds, returned to work. It took hours to deal with the scene. Of the thirty or forty people who had been there, fifteen had died in the fight. Another ten appeared to have committed suicide. Eight were injured to varying degrees, and six had simply been arrested. None of the survivors were talking. The only things any of them would say were variations on what Tim had said. Knowledge is power. It seemed to be a motto for them.

"McGee was one of them," Tony said, when the last of their attackers had been taken away. "He was wearing one of the masks...and he said the same thing they all did. He was one of them!"

"He said that he was not shooting at us."

"Yeah, well, everyone else in masks were shooting at us. I'd like to know how we can be sure he wasn't one of them!"

Ziva looked at the bodies which were finally being taken away.

"I am more afraid of knowing it was one of _us_ who shot _him_."

"What?"

"Someone shot him, Tony," Ziva said. "More than once he was shot. At least three times that we saw. Who did it? Was it you? Was it me? Was it others in the masks? As you say, it is impossible to tell them apart with those strange masks on."

"What was he doing here?" Tony asked.

"I do not know."

"And with how paranoid these guys seemed to be, do you really think he could have just _happened_ to have access to this place?"

"No."

Tony shook his head. "You know what, Ziva? I almost got killed tonight. So did you. So did Gibbs. ...and we all killed a bunch of freaked-out geeks. The last thing I want to think about is whether or not I shot McGee. ...but if I did, right now, I can't help but think he deserved it." Tony walked away.

Ziva made as if to go after him, but Gibbs stopped her.

"Leave it, Ziva."

"I am not happy about this, either, Gibbs," Ziva protested. "But we do not know what was going on here."

"No, we don't...and until we do, speculating about what McGee was doing here isn't going to help...and neither is wondering who shot him."

Ziva looked at Gibbs and then at the body nearest to them.

"You are worried about the same thing. You are worried that one of us shot him."

Gibbs looked at her and then walked away without answering. Ziva looked after him and then got back to work. There was plenty to do, after all.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"How's it going, Ducky?" Tony asked.

Ducky sighed. "As well as can be expected. It's a good thing that I have help from the FBI medical examiner. Tonight's events resulted in a big job."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry, Anthony."

Tony sighed. "Me, too. Never been involved in a firefight quite like this one."

"I dare say most law enforcement officers can say the same and hope that remains true throughout their tenure."

"Not for me, anymore."

"Yes. And Timothy was _here_?"

"Yeah...dressed like they all are. He seemed to be a part of it."

"This must be the _other_ thing he spoke of."

Tony looked at Ducky in surprise. "_What_ other thing?"

Ducky nodded to Jimmy. "Mr. Palmer, this one is ready. You may take him to the truck."

"Yes, Dr. Mallard."

Ducky smiled his thanks and stood up. "Yesterday evening, I ran into Timothy in Willard Park. He was...rather upset."

"About what?"

"He said he felt confused, and Gibbs threatened to fire him and he was suddenly aware that no one liked him. ...and he said that most of his confusion was due to..._other_ things. He refused to be more specific, saying that he couldn't but that he had work to do. I must say that I never would have guessed something like this...whatever _this_ is. However, it is a valid explanation for what little he said."

"Yeah, well, if these guys were his buddies, then I'd _hope_ he'd feel a bit more than confused about them waging war on us," Tony said bitterly.

"That I can't comment on, but I _can_ say that he was definitely upset about something last night."

"Great. After a year of being a complete jerk, he's suddenly upset? ...just in time for his friends here to start shooting lasers at us? I'm not sure I'm too impressed."

Ducky shrugged. "I dare say that impressing you was not foremost on his mind on this night, Anthony." Ducky walked over to the FBI's medical examiner and began speaking with him about how best to deal with the bodies.

Tony looked around. Everything seemed to be proceeding fairly smoothly. ...as smoothly as a body cleanup could be. He walked toward a door that was slightly ajar. He pulled out his gun as he opened it, but it was empty.

It looked like a ballroom...except for the bank of computers along one wall. He walked over to them. Most were off, but one of them had a blinking light on the monitor. Tony looked at it. Normally, this would be Tim's purview, not his...but seeing as Tim wasn't there...

"I can wake up a computer. That's not hard," he said aloud.

He nudged the mouse and looked at the screen. There was a small box in the center.

_Grant access to mainframe?_

There were two options. Yes and no.

"Huh," Tony said. He would have liked to click yes, but he didn't dare, knowing that he would likely be a bit lost in a mainframe...of anything. Instead, he took a picture and documented the rest of the room.

"What you got, Tony?" Gibbs asked.

Tony jumped and turned around.

"Bunch of computers. I think we'll want McG–er, Abby to look at this one. It's apparently ready to take someone into the mainframe...and I don't think you or I should do it."

Gibbs nodded.

"Fornell is going to make sure that the scene is secure overnight. We'll get Abby here in the morning."

"What time is it now?"

"About four."

Tony nodded wearily.

"That mean I can go home?"

"Go ahead. I already sent Ziva home."

"And you?"

"I'm going to the hospital with Ducky."

Tony nodded. "I'm not going."

"Didn't ask you to."

"You didn't have to."

Gibbs smiled. "We need to know what was going on. McGee was here and seems to have been involved. When he wakes up, he'll need to answer some questions."

"Yeah, but can you trust him?"

"Maybe not, but he deserves to have a chance to have his say."

"I'm going home."

"Go ahead."

Tony nodded and left. As he walked out of the house, he took a deep breath, as if he hadn't been able to really breathe the entire time he'd been inside. He hated it when killing was required as a part of the job. He hadn't been lying when he'd told Tim that he wet his pants the first time he fired at someone. He'd got over that, but still...it was hard.

"Sleep. That's what I need. Sleep."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky and Gibbs sat silently in the waiting room. When they'd arrived, they'd been told that Tim was still in surgery and if they wanted to stay until he was in recovery, they could feel free.

"What will happen, Jethro?"

"To whom?"

"To Timothy."

"Don't know. It depends on what was going on there and what he did."

"Do you still plan on firing him?"

"Haven't been told anything to change my mind."

"I suppose."

"Ducky, it doesn't look good. You have to admit that."

"I do, but I also know that Timothy should be able to have the chance to explain himself and his actions."

"He'll get his chance. I'm not promising anything else."

Ducky nodded and fell silent once more.

Two hours later, Ducky was drowsing and Gibbs looked up and suppressed a smile. Ziva came into the waiting room and sat down...saying nothing. Then, only twenty minutes later, Tony came in as well...and sat down. He wouldn't look at anyone. He just sat there.

The only reason Abby wasn't there was because no one had told her yet.

When the doctor came out, it was nearly seven a.m.

"Agent McGee is waking up. Surgery went well. We were able to repair his lung. The other wounds were not as damaging. He's weak but he'll make it."

No one else seemed interested in responding to that; so Ducky stood and shook the doctor's hand.

"Thank you. That is wonderful news. May we go and speak to him?"

"Only two at a time."

"Of course. Jethro?"

Gibbs nodded and stood. Ziva and Tony sat where they were and said nothing.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim looked pale and woozy, but he was alive and his eyes were occasionally open. Ducky sat down.

"Timothy, can you hear me?"

Tim's eyes opened and fastened on Ducky for a moment and then traveled to Gibbs.

"Why?" he asked.

"Why what, Timothy?"

Tim's eyes closed once again and a tear seeped out from under his lids.

"Why...am I alive?"

"It was not your intention to survive?" Ducky asked.

Tim shook his head, dislodging a few more tears.

"Not...fair." He began to cry, weakly.

Ducky brushed the hair back from Tim's forehead.

"I don't understand, Timothy."

"I'm...a traitor. I killed my friends. I...I betrayed them."

"What friends?"

"Emil. He was my friend. He was my friend." Tim cried and started to wheeze.

"Calm down, Timothy. It's all right. Just relax."

Tim's breathing calmed after a few seconds...and he fell asleep again.

"It appears you'll have to wait to get the story from him."

Gibbs nodded. "But we know one thing. He was a part of that group. They were his friends."

"And he feels he betrayed them, meaning that he did something to aid you."

"It's not that easy, Duck."

"Did you think I meant it would be easy?" Ducky asked in surprise. "I assure you that I do not have that idea at all. Timothy said he wished he was dead. He said he killed his friends. He said he is a traitor. ...and how does all this relate to everything that has gone on? I don't think this will be even slightly easy. In fact, I feel that it will be incredibly difficult to suss out the truth, even when Timothy truly awakens."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because he was at that house, must have seen what happened, and yet still described one of the people there as a friend...and his actions as those of a traitor. It appears that his perceptions are slightly skewed."

Gibbs looked at Tim and tried to feel some measure of sympathy. He could feel sorry that Tim had been injured...but as for the rest of it?

Until he understood what had happened, he couldn't muster up much sympathy for Tim's problems.

He had enough of his own.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"_Look! Don't be deceived by appearances - men and things are not what they seem. All who are not on the rock are in the sea!" _

_William Booth_

Tim woke up alone in his room. He vaguely remembered seeing Gibbs and Ducky before, but he couldn't be entirely sure of that. There was a tube taped to his face. He reached up and touched it, following it from his cheek to his nose. Oxygen. Now that he thought about it, it _was_ kind of hard to breathe right now. He wondered why.

_But I'm alive. What's going to happen now?_

Tim couldn't think of a single person he could see at this moment that wouldn't make him wish he were dead. Not one. The bullets had all hit him at once, it seemed, but while the pain had been bad, he had felt almost grateful. No more complications. He didn't have to try and sort through all the confusion to find what must be reality. He didn't have to decide who was good and who was bad. He didn't have to wonder if he had been betrayed or merely the betrayer. He didn't have to figure out which side he was on.

_No one's. No one would have me now anyway. ...and if that's the case, why am I even bothering?_

There didn't seem to be a point. Tim tried to sit up, but as soon as he moved, he felt intense pain centered in his back and his side. The pain seemed radiate outward from those points like waves of electricity were coursing through his body. He sagged back in the bed, wheezing slightly, tears streaming down his cheeks. He heard an increased beeping sound...and before he knew it, there was someone in the room.

"Agent McGee, what's wrong?"

Oh, that was the stupidest question he'd ever heard, possibly the stupidest question ever put to him in his entire life.

"Hurts," he wheezed.

The nurse/doctor (Tim didn't know which she was and didn't particularly care) looked at him.

"What were you trying to do?"

"Leave."

"Why?"

"Didn't..." The pain started to ebb finally but he was still finding it hard to breathe. "...see much...point in staying..."

"Big mistake, Agent McGee. You were shot four times, although two were only grazes. You are not ready to walk to the bathroom, let alone leave the hospital."

"Doesn't matter," he said. "Everything is...ruined...anyway. Might as well...just...get it over with."

"Get _what_ over with?"

"Everything."

There was a long pause.

"I want you to breathe with the oxygen mask for a few minutes. Your gas exchange isn't as efficient as it could be. So far, you've been doing pretty well. Your lung didn't fully collapse, but you could stand to have a bit more oxygen in your body."

Tim shrugged and didn't protest when the uncomfortable mask was slipped over his face. Why give someone else a reason to hate him? Besides, he was surprised at how much easier it was to breathe.

"Agent McGee?"

He opened his eyes, surprised that they had closed. It was like he'd fallen asleep and not noticed.

"You have a couple of visitors. Are you up to seeing them?"

"Yeah. Whatever," Tim said, his words muffled by the mask.

"You don't have to. If you're needing a rest, you can say no."

"It...doesn't matter. Send them...in."

"All right."

She left and Tim kept breathing in the oxygen. It _was_ rather nice to breathe almost normally. ...but why was he bothering? No one who would come in here could possibly have anything great to say...not to him and not about him. He'd betrayed and killed his friends and lost his team a long time ago. Nothing he had done in the last little while could lead to something positive. It was all a waste.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Jethro, I'm more than willing to be here, but I'm not sure what you think my role should be," Ducky said. "I have not spoken to Timothy much more than the rest of you in the last few months."

"I'm going to be questioning him, Ducky. You can keep me in line."

"This is a man on your team, Jethro. Changed or not, that in and of itself is still the same."

"But the situation _has_ changed. Vance needs an explanation for what we were all doing there and why NCIS is responsible for the deaths of fifteen people! McGee has details we don't...and I'm going to get them."

"Excuse me, sirs?"

Ducky and Gibbs turned.

"Yes?"

"You can go and see him now, but I wanted to let you know that...there might be a problem."

"Meaning?" Gibbs asked.

"His current attitude is trending towards...hopeless...at best. I came in and found him trying to leave the hospital because he said there was no point...to anything."

Ducky looked at Gibbs with some concern. Gibbs didn't return the glance.

"Thanks," he said and walked by the nurse.

Ducky went after him.

"Jethro."

"I heard her, Ducky."

"And?"

"And all things considered, I'm going to see for myself before I believe that McGee's changed _that _much."

"Jethro, I already told you about his confusion before."

"Yeah. I know."

Ducky started to protest but stopped when he saw it would do no good. Gibbs had decided that he wanted the truth. He wasn't going to stop until he got it...and nothing so banal as possible depression was going to stop him. Not after what had happened at that house.

When they entered the room, Tim was breathing through an oxygen mask. His eyes were closed. He was very still...but he wasn't asleep.

"Timothy?" Ducky asked, very gently.

Tim opened his eyes, looked at them and then sighed...and winced. He took off the oxygen mask.

"Yeah?"

Gibbs took over.

"We need to know what's going on, McGee," he said.

"I...I can't tell you," Tim said and looked away.

"Why not?"

"It's...against...the rules," Tim said. "I...I already broke one of the rules. I have to keep the rules."

"_What_ rules, McGee?" Gibbs asked, sounding irritated.

Tim looked up and Ducky was surprised at the desperation in his eyes, almost a silent plea for help.

"It's...It's _your_ rule, too! You always say to keep secrets! Don't tell anyone! ...and..." He panted a little. "It's their rule. I have to keep it a secret! I can't tell." Inexplicably, tears came into his eyes, but Ducky rather thought that Gibbs didn't notice them.

"McGee...we were _in_ that house. We know that you were a part of that group! We killed or arrested everyone there. What more is there to keep secret?"

Tim began to cry. "I'm a traitor!" he said, weeping and then wheezing a little. Ducky hurriedly walked to the bed and put the oxygen mask back over his face.

"Just breathe for a moment, Timothy."

Tim did...but for less than a minute and then he took off the oxygen mask again.

"I'm a traitor. I betrayed them. All of them. They didn't know. They didn't see. ...and all the time I was going to betray them!"

"McGee..." Gibbs began.

Ducky held up his hand and addressed Tim himself.

"Timothy...what is your betrayal?"

"I have to keep it a secret," Tim said again.

"But you know that we were there. Surely, you can tell us what you yourself did that was an act of betrayal. We should know what you feel you've done wrong."

"I didn't trust them! There's...There are only two rules! Keep everything a secret...and don't do anything that would hurt the group. Everything is done _for _the group...and I didn't. I..." Tim started to cry again.

"What did you do, Timothy?"

"I...I was suspicious." Tim seemed completely ashamed by that admission. "I couldn't explain it..._they_ couldn't explain it...and so I...I..." Tim looked at Ducky. "I shouldn't have done it! People wouldn't have died if I hadn't!"

"What, Timothy?" Ducky asked patiently. He rather thought that Gibbs was finally seeing the serious nature of Tim's state of mind.

"I...I hacked into the site. I saw what they were planning. I saw what they had done before. I saw it all. It was wrong! It was...evil! ...but I shouldn't have done it! I shouldn't have doubted them! I should have _asked_ them and..." Finally, he looked at Gibbs again. "I'm so sorry, Boss!" he said through tears and gasps for breath. "I know I shouldn't have! ...but Emil...my friend. He was my best friend...and he was going to kill you! I know I shouldn't have broken the rules, but I had to. ...and I..." Tim began to sob. "...and I killed my friend. I shot him in the back! I know it was wrong! ...and I killed our leader! I...I shouldn't have...I..." He ran out of air and Ducky quickly pulled the oxygen mask over his face again.

"Calm down, Timothy," Ducky said. "It's all right."

"No..." Tim wheezed. "No...not...all...right..."

"Shh...calm down. Just breathe for a few minutes, Timothy. Just breathe."

"My...friends...are dead..."

"Shh...breathe."

Gibbs stirred but this time, Ducky stopped him just so that Tim could calm down enough to get his breath back. Tim was fairly quivering with tension as he breathed. He wasn't looking at either man. The seconds ticked by. Silently.

"McGee, what were you doing there at that house?"

"Being a traitor," Tim whispered.

"How?"

Ducky winced, but the question was _almost_ non-combative.

"I was...I was stupid. I forgot the meeting. Every month. I forgot it. I'm not smart enough to be with them. I..."

"Tim, why were you there?" Gibbs asked.

"I was...I was going to betray them...destroy their...plans. I was going to work against them. I made the mess. My ideas. My suggestions. I had to clean up my own mess."

Ducky looked at Gibbs and saw the understanding. That was rule 45.

"And I betrayed them. I worked against them. I..." Tim shifted his gaze to Ducky. "I didn't want to! ...but when I saw them there, pinned down... They couldn't escape. I had to stop them. I had to..." Tim voice trailed off and he shook his head. "...but it was wrong to do it. I shouldn't have..."

"McGee, these people started trying to kill us without provocation even when we identified ourselves! Whose side are you _on_?" Gibbs burst out suddenly.

Tim physically jerked, as if Gibbs had just hit him. He looked at Gibbs, his mouth moving silently. Then, he looked at Ducky. In his eyes...he was utterly lost.

"I...I don't know!" Tim said. He began to hyperventilate. "I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know..."

Ducky again put the oxygen mask over his face and then held Tim as gently as he could, trying to calm him down. His heart rate was skyrocketing.

"All right. It's all right, Timothy. You don't have to know right now. Just calm down. Slow down your breathing. You don't need to get upset right now."

"Wasn't...supposed to...survive," Tim said with his voice muffled.

"Who wasn't?" Gibbs asked, although it was clear from his expression that he already knew.

"Me," Tim gasped out. "Not supposed to survive. Traitors should die. I'm a traitor. I should die."

"No, Timothy. That's wrong."

Before Ducky could say any more, the door opened and the nurse came back in. She looked rather put out.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You're upsetting my patient. Agent McGee should _not_ be putting this much strain on his body right now. In fact, it's the _last_ thing he needs. Leave. You can come back later." Her tone brooked no disagreement.

Ducky nodded and let Tim go, but Tim reached out a hand toward him.

"Mainframe...is open," he gasped. "It was...wrong...shouldn't have..."

Ducky brushed his hand across Tim's forehead and smiled.

"It wasn't wrong. Thank you, Timothy."

Tim's eyes closed and he started breathing again. Ducky nudged Gibbs and they left the room.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What was all that, Ducky?" Gibbs asked. He cursed inwardly that he sounded as shaken as he felt.

"I don't know for sure, Jethro."

"He said that he killed someone to save me...and that it was the wrong thing to do."

"I think...that we need to know more about this group...and how Timothy became a part of it. That, I believe, will help us better understand his current state of mind."

"What are you thinking?" Gibbs asked.

"That Timothy sounds almost like someone fighting against fairly-successful brainwashing."

"Oh, come on, Duck. He was at work every day. We would have noticed something like that!"

"Didn't we _all_ notice a change? Didn't we _all_ see how Timothy started withdrawing from our company, how he started looking down on us all? A dramatic personality change. We saw it and we did nothing more than resent it."

Gibbs was silent for a moment.

"I myself have been fooled into assuming that Timothy had simply changed for the worse and he was no longer someone with whom I wished to associate...but it does seem, based on his behavior a few moments ago, that he was _not_ in his right mind. He is confused about what choice is the right one to make. He feels he is a traitor."

"To the people who were trying to kill us, Ducky," Gibbs said.

"Yes. ...and no matter how changed Timothy has become, can you really honestly tell me that you could _ever_ imagine Timothy McGee feeling that wholesale murder was acceptable?"

"No."

"Then, that should tell you that something is _wrong_!"

Gibbs looked at Ducky for a long moment and then pulled out his phone.

"Abby."

"_What, Gibbs? What does the great hider of important information have to say?"_

"Abby."

"_You could have taken a second to tell me, Gibbs! Tim got shot! Three words! That's all it takes!"_

"Abby!"

"_What?"_

"What have you found in the mainframe?"

"_It's only been a couple of days, Gibbs. What are you expecting?"_

"That you have something."

"_Well...I do. If you hadn't been so insistent that I not call you, I could have told you stuff sooner."_

"What did you find?"

"_Well, there's tons here,"_ Abby said, sounding less miffed at him. _"I won't get through it all for ages, but what I _have_ found is...way beyond hinky."_

"In what way?"

"_In a take-over-the-world way...in a way that solves our unsolved cases...in a way that explains the witness statement about seeing a guy clone himself...in a way that tells us you were right about them hiding their power usage by hacking into the power company...in a way that...that has Tim suggesting how to use holographic technology to duplicate himself...in a way that..."_

"Wait, are you saying that McGee helped them kill that petty officer?"

"_No...but...these guys didn't seem to feel the need to get rid of anything on their site. Tim is the one who suggested the possibilities of holographic technology beyond those way cool masks they were using. It was from this live chat transcript. Gibbs...it reads like a bunch of geeks getting together. Tim came up with the idea and then for the next _hour_ they were suggesting ways it could be used. ...and no, covering up a murder was not one of the options. ...but it was Tim's idea. ...and Gibbs...I found the membership list. Tim was _way_ up there on the list. He wasn't part of the leadership, but of the rank-and-file members, he was nearly at the top...even over people who had been members longer."_

Gibbs was silent as he digested all that Abby had said.

"_Gibbs...what's going on?"_

"I don't know yet, Abbs. For now, focus on figuring out just what McGee had been doing. ...and look at those cold cases. See if you can make a real link between them."

"_Justify your presence at the house when you didn't have a warrant, aye, aye, sir."_

Gibbs hung up.

"Well?" Ducky asked.

"McGee's in this up to his neck, Ducky. I don't know if anyone can pull him out."

"Are you going to try?"

"I'm going to try and figure out the truth," Gibbs said firmly. "I'm not covering for McGee if he's guilty."

Ducky looked at him for a moment. "Is this because, unlike your mother-in-law, you feel that Timothy betrayed you?" he asked coolly.

Gibbs almost winced. They tended not to talk about that particular event because of its...extremely iffy status. That one stung.

"We don't know the truth, yet, Ducky."

"That's true...but be careful that you don't convict Timothy on the basis of your emotions...as you freed your mother-in-law because of your own guilt and regret."

Ducky headed toward the sedan, leaving Gibbs to follow behind him. Even though he knew it was a horrible thing to think, a small part of him couldn't help agreeing with Tim's feeling that he should have died. It just would have been easier, but he wasn't lying to Ducky. He wanted to know the truth.

...and that truth was turning out to be far more complicated than he could ever have imagined.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"_The curtain of the universe is moth-eaten, and through its holes we see nothing now but mask and ghost." _

_Emile M. Cioran_

Ziva walked into the hospital, uncertain of what it was she hoped to accomplish by her coming. She only knew that she needed to see Tim, to speak with him if possible...to see if he was still as changed as he had seemed before.

The more they learned about this group, the more horrifying it became that Tim had been a part of it...and willingly had worked with these people. She desperately wanted there to be another explanation for what had happened. Something to tell her what was going on. Tim just wasn't the kind of person who would be involved in a group wanting to take down the government. He wouldn't. He believed in the laws. He followed them and he believed they were good. He was one who wanted people to follow the rules and get punished when they didn't. It seemed to offend him when that _didn't_ happen.

"May I help you, ma'am?"

Ziva blinked and realized that she had walked all the way to the desk without noticing.

"Yes. Is Timothy McGee receiving visitors?"

"Let me check..." The nurse trailed off and checked her list. "Yes. He might be sleeping, but you can go in and see him. Just down the hall, fourth door on the left."

"Thank you." She walked in the indicated direction and stepped hesitantly into the room.

Tim seemed to be asleep, an oxygen mask over his face, monitors tracking his heartbeat, his pulse.

Ziva walked over and sat down beside him.

"McGee?" she whispered.

Tim stirred slightly but didn't awaken.

"I do not understand this, what has happened. It does not make sense," she said softly. "What we saw in that house...it was not you. It _could_ not be you."

Still nothing. Just breathing. Just his heart beating. Just the appearance of the man she had known without anything to show how much he seemed to have changed.

"I have been angry at you, McGee," she said. "Very angry. I had given up on thinking of you as a friend. ...but if you ask, I am willing to think of you as a friend again. I cannot even imagine how it got so far from what it was. Why we let that happen."

The heart monitor seemed to increase in frequency slightly but still Tim didn't move.

"I am afraid," she said, her voice very soft. "I am afraid of learning that your injuries were due to me, that I am the one who shot you. I think the others are afraid of that, too, but they have not admitted it. I hope that it was not me. I hope that, if it was, you can forgive me for it."

Tim never opened his eyes, but Ziva thought that he might have awakened at one point. Still, she wasn't sure what she would say to him while he was conscious; so she simply sat where she was and took comfort from the fact that he was alive. There was a lot of pressure on the MCRT right now because of what had happened. Every one of the members of the group had been successful in whatever their field had been. Those who had survived gave them some evidence of a problem because it was clear that they weren't quite all there. Abby was finding more and more information every day...and now, the FBI was involved as well because of the fact that they had cases that lined up with what Abby was finding.

That meant some of the onus was off Abby. It also meant that she now had time to process the bullets pulled from Tim. Two of them. The grazes were obviously not there to be analyzed, but both the bullets that had caused damage had still been inside his body. Even though no one was talking about it, they were all worried about what they'd find.

...which was part of what had brought Ziva here. In case _she_ had shot Tim, she wanted to apologize in advance.

"I am sorry, Tim. If I did something that led to this...if your injuries are my fault. I am sorry."

Nothing. No response. Finally, Ziva had to give in and leave.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby was full to the brim with information. That much was clear. ...but what was also clear was that she wasn't happy about what she knew.

"Well?" Gibbs said.

"I analyzed the bullets, assessed trajectories and stuff like you asked me to, Gibbs."

"And?" Tony asked. While he hadn't admitted to any concern, he obviously worried about it.

"And...there's some stuff that happened in that room that...I don't think we've really understood yet."

"So tell us," Gibbs said, but without his usual impatience.

Abby turned around and faced her computer.

"Okay. Do you want to see what happened first or do you want the bullets?"

"See?" Ziva asked. "How is it possible that we could–?"

"Cameras. Loads of them. ...and because...because Tim gave us access to the mainframe, we've got it all. We know exactly what happened in there. The FBI has a copy. Director Vance asked me to go through it, make sure it was all genuine and then go through it with you and have you guys look at what happened."

"Let's see it," Gibbs said quietly.

"Okay. I've slowed it down because everything happened so fast in there."

Abby didn't turn around as she started the video going at about half speed.

"I've taken out the sound for now. It was too distracting. The microphones don't seem to be working right and it's really garbled."

Then, they watched in silence. They watched themselves come into the house, diving for cover, clearly shouting. What was more disturbing, however, was what came before. The people in masks were all sitting around, talking, enjoying themselves, but when the lights began to flash, they moved without hesitation...as if they'd been training for something like this. All of them...except one who was pulled away from the computer where he'd been sitting and dragged out of the shot. Then, the MCRT had come in.

"Why is it so light on this video? It was dark with strobe lights," Ziva said.

"Because there's a special filter on the camera...just like there was in the masks. The FBI guys figured that part out. It filtered out all the crazy lights so that they could see you guys just fine...but you'd be stuck."

"Yeah, we were," Tony muttered, rubbing absently at his arm.

"I know," Abby said, her voice small. In fact, she'd been the exact opposite of exuberant ever since that night at the house...or rather the morning after.

They watched as they each shot and killed or injured a number of their masked attackers. It was like watching a horrible silent movie.

"What is that colored line around each of our attackers?" Ziva asked.

Abby paused the video.

"I don't know," she said. "It looks like some kind of an identification system. You guys didn't get a line, but all the masked people did. There's a different color for each person and when you watch it for a while, you'll see that there are different brightnesses and stuff like that."

The video resumed. Suddenly, their attention was taken away from themselves and onto a masked person who came into the front hall late. He stopped...and then, pulled out a gun, a regular gun, and shot one of the other masked people in the back. Then, he turned around and fired at another masked man, one standing at the very back of the room...and then, inexplicably, he ran out of the hall again.

No one asked who it was. Somehow, they all knew.

The lights came on and there was a moment of static in the video.

"The filters malfunctioned and the camera went to backup settings," Abby said. "But the lights came back on."

"Yeah, we were there," Tony said.

"Yeah..."

Then, came the moment they had all been overtly or silently dreading. The masked man came back out into the front hall.

"That's Tim," Abby whispered, almost inaudibly.

"Slow it down," Gibbs said.

"More?" Abby asked.

"Yeah. We need to know."

Abby nodded. Clearly, she already knew. She hit a couple of keys. The video slowed down to a crawl.

Tony fired. Tim jerked backwards. The worst part was that, even though they knew it was him, they couldn't see anything except for his body's reaction to each bullet.

"A graze," Abby said.

Another masked person fired at Tim from behind. He lurched forward..and turned toward the new attack.

Almost at the same time, Gibbs fired.

"Second graze...and the back."

One last shot and finally Tim fell to the ground, his gun falling uselessly from his hand. He hadn't even been trying to fire it. It had been hanging by his side. In the middle of a gun fight and he hadn't even _tried_ to save himself.

Abby started to cry.

The video continued at the snail's pace as Lovitz' team came in from the front and the other backup team came in from the back.

It was silent in the lab. No one was speaking. They didn't need to. All the conflicted feelings they'd had about Tim for the last year seemed...so wrong in the face of the fact that he had clearly been trying to help them...and his reward for that was getting shot by the people he'd tried to protect.

"We shot him," Abby whispered through her tears.

No one responded. They just stared at the video.

"Abby?" Gibbs asked, his voice very soft.

"Yeah?"

"How far back does the video go?"

"Hours."

"Track what McGee was doing there. See what you can do with the audio. We're going to need as much information as possible. What's happening with their files?"

Abby sniffed loudly. "The...The FBI people are giving me updates on what they've done and I'm giving them what I've done. We aren't hiding anything. I'm supposed to go to the house tomorrow and work with them."

"Okay. Do that."

"Okay."

Gibbs looked at Tony and Ziva, both seeming rather shell-shocked in their own ways...but Ziva's expression was tinged with relief. She hadn't been one responsible for shooting Tim. Slowly, she lifted a hand toward Tony's arm, but he looked at her and then stalked out of the lab.

Ziva looked at Gibbs, almost helplessly.

"Ziva...go and see what help Lovitz needs right now. He's working on this stuff, too."

"Yes, Gibbs." Quickly, she left the lab.

"Gibbs...what are we going to do?" Abby asked, plaintively. "We shot Tim!"

"You didn't do anything, Abby," Gibbs said. "I did. Tony did. Someone else did. Not you. Not Ziva."

"But...But _why_ was Tim there? Why was he with them? Why did he choose these guys? I don't understand!"

Gibbs hugged her, suppressing his own shock at the realization that it was his bullet that could have killed Tim. The others had been painful but not life threatening. His bullet could have killed Tim. No matter how angry he'd been. No matter how much he'd been frustrated at the way things had been going...he'd never even _considered_ actually trying to hurt Tim.

"We have time to figure it out, now, Abbs. We will."

Abby pulled back and nodded. "Right. I'll...get to work."

"Good." He kissed her on the cheek and left the lab.

...in search of Tony.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_He was surrounded by his friends. They were smiling. He was showing them something. ...but then, their faces changed. Their eyes began to glow red. Their smiles became evil and frightening. Their hands grew long claws, like eagle talons. He was surrounded by enemies. They began to press in on him, getting closer and closer, their hands reaching out to grab him..._

Tim opened his eyes. He felt like he was suffocating. He couldn't get any air. He needed air. He needed to get away from all this confusion, all this pain...all these things he couldn't seem to figure out in his own head.

He painfully pulled the covers off and tried to get out of bed. He didn't know where he was going. He just knew that he needed to get _somewhere_.

As soon as he tried to walk, he collapsed to the ground...pulling a number of machines over on top of him. He lay on the ground in a miasma of pain, unable to move.

Vaguely, he heard the door open after what seemed an eternity.

"Agent McGee!"

"Timothy!"

A voice he knew...one that filled him with shame and self-loathing.

The machinery was lifted off him.

"Please, allow me."

"Very well. Lift him very carefully. He may have already pulled his stitches...but if not, we need to keep it that way."

"Of course. I understand."

Tim kept his eyes closed. He still felt like he was suffocating. Nothing to do but try to get away. He reached feebly to get away.

"Timothy, stay still! We don't wish to cause you more pain."

"...breathe..." Tim gasped out.

Gently, so gently it was almost like he was floating, Tim felt himself being lifted off the ground and back onto his bed. Then, gentle arms around him.

"It is all right, Timothy. You will be all right. Just give yourself time."

The oxygen mask was again placed over his face. He breathed, but the problem wasn't with the actual amount of air in his lungs. It was with the chaos in his head. He couldn't find the energy to say that.

"I'm here for you, lad. If you want the help, I'm here."

The words, simple though they were, suddenly penetrated the fog in Tim's mind and he began to sob. He didn't try to speak. He didn't try to move. He just cried. He cried until the fog began to thicken and pull him away from consciousness toward blessed oblivion.

He didn't fight it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Oh, dear," Ducky said softly.

The sedative had taken effect and Tim was out.

"This is the second time he's tried to get out of bed, Dr. Mallard," the nurse said. "We're going to have to restrain him if he can't be trusted to stay in bed. He's lucky that the stitches held."

Ducky nodded.

"He'll sleep for hours now. Do you know what he was doing?"

"I haven't any idea. I wish I knew what was going through his mind...but I'm not sure even he does."

"Well, are you going to stay?"

"Yes, for now."

"Make sure you let us know when you leave. I'll leave a note for his doctor, but this is not normal behavior."

"I know that much."

The nurse withdrew and Ducky turned his attention back to Tim. No matter what Gibbs might think, Ducky was certain that Tim had been brainwashed in some way. Not in the Hollywood fashion with spinning wheels, nor even with drugs...but something else had been used to reel Tim in and it had worked...only not completely. It might have been better if it _had_ worked fully because the confusion Tim seemed to be feeling was pulling him in dangerous directions.

"What is going on in your mind, Timothy?" Ducky asked.

There was no reply.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"_Knowledge comes by eyes always open and working hands; and there is no knowledge that is not power."  
><em>_Ralph Waldo Emerson_

Gibbs found Tony sitting at his desk, his gun in his hand. He was staring at it intently. There were no jokes right now. There wasn't even any anger. Just...the knowledge of what had happened.

Gibbs pulled a chair over and sat down.

"We shot him, Boss. You and me. We shot McGee...friendly fire...only it wasn't _really_ friendly, was it...because we all hated him and you were going to fire him. But we shot him."

"Yeah."

Tony laughed humorlessly. "What are you supposed to say to something like that? Sorry I shot you? I couldn't tell you from all the other crazy guys running around in masks?" His voice got louder. "I didn't notice that you weren't actually pointing your gun at anyone else?" He put his gun on the desk and stood up in agitation. "He wasn't even trying to protect himself, Boss! Not from _anyone_! Not us _or_ them!"

Gibbs stood up as well.

"Yeah."

"What in the world was McGee _doing_ there? _Why_ did he feel that he had to be there? Why was he planning an assault on the place? ...and why was he part of a group that was trying to take down the government? Why?"

"I don't know."

Tony hardly seemed to notice what little Gibbs was saying.

"I've spent the last few months hating the guy. He was acting like a jerk every time he came in to work! _No one _liked him! It wasn't just me! ...and here he is, trying to save our lives...and what do we do? _Shoot_ him!"

"Are you upset because you shot him or because you were mad at him?" Gibbs asked.

"Boss...we just went from thinking McGee was just a jerk to finding out that he might be a traitor...and to finding out that he saved our lives! So...was he really being a jerk or was he pretending? If he was pretending _why_ was he pretending? Why didn't he tell us anything? If he wasn't pretending, why did he suddenly hate us? And if he hated us, why did he save us?" Tony sank down onto his chair again. "And what in the world do we do now?"

"We get answers, Tony."

"...and what if we don't like the answers we get?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Won't change what they are."

"Right now...none of it makes sense, Boss."

Gibbs nodded. "I know." He looked at his watch. "Almost time for your evaluation."

Tony grimaced but nodded. "I know."

They all were required to go through a psychological evaluation after what had happened. ...and now that they knew that they had both shot Tim, it was obvious that it would require more time. Gibbs could see that Tony wanted to resist, but considering how he felt right now, he could admit (but only to himself) that he probably needed it.

"Tony?"

"Yeah, Boss?"

"You're not responsible for what happened in that house."

"Hard to believe, but thanks, Boss."

Gibbs smiled a little and then pointed up the stairs. Tony nodded and got to his feet. He walked away, but Gibbs held his smile until Tony was gone. After he left, Gibbs sat down at his desk and sighed. He had almost killed Tim. He had to understand what he had seen on that video...and no matter how much data Abby could pull from all those computers, the real answers were not to be found there.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky walked into Abby's lab and, no matter how much he disliked Abby's choice of music, was slightly disturbed by the silence.

"Abigail?"

A loud sniffle greeted him. Ducky turned and saw Abby sitting on the floor, holding Bert in her arms, mascara streaking her face.

"Abigail," Ducky said tolerantly.

"This whole thing...it's so awful, Ducky!"

"Yes, it is."

"I've been watching the footage! I just don't understand!"

Ducky walked over to Abby and held out his hand. Abby looked at him for a moment and then allowed him to pull her to her feet.

"I don't understand, either, Abigail, but I'm ready to make a start in _trying _to understand as much as can be gleaned from the information we have. Can you help me?"

Abby wiped at her eyes with one of Bert's feet.

"How?"

"How far back do you have information about Timothy's involvement in this group?"

Another sniffle.

"Well...months back. I haven't been looking specifically for that, but there's loads of information on the mainframe. I have copies of a lot of it. I really haven't even started."

"If I were to give you target dates, could you find information?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Can you do that for me now?"

"Yeah. Will this help?"

"I believe it will go a long way toward proving a theory I have about Timothy's behavior. Timothy himself must provide the final link, but this will give me a good grasp, I believe."

"Anything you need, Ducky! I'm your girl!"

"Excellent. Shall we begin?"

Given a new sense of purpose, Abby nodded firmly and set Bert down so that she could begin typing.

"Where do you want to start?"

"I would like to see if we can trace back Timothy's first presence with this group. You said that there was an indication from his own computer that he'd been involved with it for a year?"

"Yeah."

"Then, can you search through these records and find a year ago?"

Abby nodded again and began to type. Ducky pulled up a stool beside her and watched...hoping for a revelation.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up again and only wanted to escape. Even before he'd opened his eyes, he started to shift, ignoring the physical pain, intent on escaping his mental pain. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to face all this. He wanted to be...somewhere else. Anywhere else. Any place that would get rid of this chaos in his head.

"Stop it, Tim."

The voice made him freeze instantly...and he opened his eyes, looking up at the person he really did _not_ want to see. He couldn't bear to deal with that. He closed his eyes again and tried to move away.

Hands on his arms kept him in place.

"Tim, stay where you are."

Tim swallowed, winced...and stopped moving.

"You need the mask again?"

Tim shook his head.

"I need to talk to you."

Another head shake.

"Yes...because I'm the one who shot you."

Tim opened his eyes and looked up.

"Yeah. Well, Tony got a graze and two of your..._friends_ hit you, too...but the shot that could have killed you came from me."

"Why...did you miss?" Tim whispered.

"Why do you wish I hadn't?"

Tim closed his eyes once again. He didn't want to explain himself. He didn't even think he _could_ explain himself. Where were the words for the chaos in his head? Where were the words to explain why things that _should_ make sense no longer did?

"Why, McGee?"

Tim breathed in and out. That was all. He refused to open his eyes. He refused to say anything.

"Why did you save my life?"

That wasn't what Tim was expecting. He wasn't expecting that question...and it startled an answer out of him.

"I couldn't let him kill you."

"Why not?"

"I didn't want to kill him," Tim whispered. He could still see Emil's body falling to the floor. No doubt he had been shocked at the attack from one of his own. "I really didn't want to. He was my friend."

"So why did you?"

"I couldn't let him shoot you."

"But why not, McGee?"

Why? What kind of a question was that? What did the _why_ matter when there were so many other problems to deal with?

"You've acted like you hate us for months. So...why save someone you hate?"

Tim kept his eyes closed.

"You hated me first."

"What?"

"You hated me first," he said, keeping his voice very low. "Always putting down what I do, what I say...never wanting to listen to me, be around me...just like..." Tim trailed off, realizing what he was going to say.

"Just like what?"

"Just...like they said."

"Who?"

"My friends."

"This group of people who attacked us?"

Tim winced.

"Them?"

"Yes."

"Do you believe them, McGee?"

Tim still couldn't bring himself to open his eyes...nor could he bring himself to say anything in reply. After a long silence, Gibbs surprisingly moved on...or rather moved back.

"So why save me?"

"Killing you...would be...wrong," Tim said and then he breathed quickly, waiting for something to happen...only he didn't know what that was.

The hands moved off his arm.

"I'd hope you'd think that way." He sounded almost amused.

Tim didn't feel better. He was worried and hunched his shoulders.

"What's wrong, Tim?"

Tim shook his head. Not supposed to tell.

"What are you afraid of?"

Tim didn't know himself. He couldn't say...and he wasn't about to admit that he didn't know...not to Gibbs. He just squeezed his eyes more tightly closed.

A hand on his shoulder.

"All right, McGee." A pause. "I'm not sorry you're still alive, McGee...but I'm sorry I shot you at all...and you need to stop hurting yourself."

Tim said nothing. He just waited until he could tell that he was alone again. Then, he chanced opening his eyes. He looked around the hospital room and wanted to leave, but he stayed...because Gibbs had told him to. Instead of trying to get away physically, he closed his eyes one last time and went back to sleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby looked at the screen and then at Ducky.

"What are you thinking, Ducky?"

"Timothy was recruited...so skillfully that I'm actually impressed."

"Recruited?"

"Yes. Go back to that first file."

Abby brought up a chat log. It was a long chat about a new addition to the group, plans to bring him on board and how best to get him to join.

"Are you sure that's Tim they're talking about, though?"

"Based on the way they brought him in later, yes. I think that they had picked him out very early on. ...and notice how skeptical Timothy was in that first chat. He was careful...but he had no idea how careful _they_ were being...and that worked to his detriment."

Abby looked at Ducky skeptically.

"Go to that live chat."

Abby brought it up.

"Now, you told me that these IPs are actually in the same place."

"Yeah. Most of them...they were at that house."

"Exactly. Timothy was alone in his apartment and the others were all together...encouraging his every post, his every thought was lauded as if it was the best thing ever proposed. Even when it was clear that he was wrong, they applauded his method, his unique point of view. Constant positive reinforcement. It's a classic method for encouraging changes in behavior."

"But why would Tim fall for that? He's smarter than that."

"Ah, you've hit on the problem, Abigail," Ducky said, settling back on the stool as much as possible. "Because he had a few moments where he was frustrated. I can't say what _exactly_ drove him to this site initially because I don't recall what was happening on that day, but I do know that when we were investigating some of those odd crimes, he felt his contributions were being ignored, not only ignored but denigrated. That would only serve to reinforce this idea that was so insidious on that site. The intelligent people in the world are being passed over, put down, restrained. They have to _force _the world to accept their knowledge and their value. Don't you see, Abigail? Timothy is and always has been a man in need of proving that he belongs where he is. It was more overt in his early years at NCIS, but notice how much he feels it necessary to demonstrate his value by being correct, by doing everything he can, whatever is asked of him, legal or not. ...and when he felt frustrated at apparently _not_ succeeding, he was driven and then coaxed to a place where he was told that he was right, that everyone else was wrong. He was encouraged to think that the problem lay not with him, but with us. It makes his errors _not_ errors at all on his part."

"But, Ducky!"

"Abigail, it's been a full year and the last few months, Timothy was in almost-constant contact with them. The only time he would not have been would be at work...and then, he forced us away by treating us badly...as badly as he felt himself being treated. Right or wrong, that's how he felt. This kind of...brainwashing, to use the inaccurate layman's term, leads to isolation, and while Timothy wasn't physically isolated, emotionally and mentally, he was _totally_ isolated from the rest of the world."

Abby looked at the screen and then at Ducky.

"But...it...Tim isn't the kind of person who would get...sucked into something like that. You make it sound like a cult!"

"Abigail, at one warning, all those people took up arms, ready to defend themselves. They thought they were being attacked...because they had been _told_ that they were. Instant belief. Instant obedience. Just because the guiding force was not an extreme religion does not preclude this kind of behavior."

"What can we do...if you're right?"

Ducky smiled. "Believe it or not, I feel that Timothy can throw all that off. He has already begun...but his injury is slowing any progress he will make, and I think that he will need our help...should we wish to give it. I think he will now be willing to take it if it were offered."

"Of course! If...If Tim really doesn't hate us anymore..."

"It won't be that easy. Timothy faces a real struggle, and he may fall back on the cultivated beliefs simply because that will make it easier for him. That means that we will have to stick with it, even if the face of some bad behavior that will later cause Timothy quite a bit of embarrassment. Are you ready to face that?"

Abby was quiet for a moment...and then she nodded.

"Yes. I want to have Tim back!"

Ducky smiled. "I think we can. I really do...as long as we all are willing to stick it out."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up briefly, saw he was alone, remembered what all had happened...

...and went back to sleep to escape from it.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

"_Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves."  
><em>_Henry David Thoreau_

Tim woke up...which was unfortunate to him. Every time he regained consciousness, he remembered how disturbing, how _confusing_, everything was. He shook his head and tried to get comfortable. Sleep was preferable.

"Timothy?"

Tim opened his eyes, almost unwillingly. He looked at Ducky and didn't say anything.

"I'm glad to see you awake again, lad."

Tim dropped his eyes and still said nothing.

"Abigail and I have been going over all that has happened in the last year. We would like to talk to you about it, if you would allow us to."

"Why?" Tim whispered.

"Because I think there is much that you did not realize about your associations."

Tim didn't respond.

"May I call Abigail in? She is waiting outside in the hall."

"Why?" Tim asked again.

"Because there is much you need to know. Should you still wish to reject our company, that is your right, but you should do so with full knowledge of all that has happened. We are still piecing together events, and your input would help immeasurably...when you are ready to give it. For now, however, would you accept ours?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Of course. If you would prefer that I leave, I will."

"Ducky..."

"Yes, Timothy?"

"It doesn't make sense."

"I believe that we can help with that. Will you let us?"

Tim only nodded, but he wouldn't look up.

"Good."

The door opened.

"Hi, Tim," Abby said quietly. "How are you feeling? Still hurt?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"Me, too."

There was an awkward pause, but Tim still refused to raise his eyes to the people in the room. He could sense Ducky and Abby waiting for him, but he couldn't look them in the eye. Not them...not now.

"You will need to look up to see what we will be showing you, Timothy. You can't just keep your eyes on the floor."

Tim reluctantly lifted his gaze. Abby was setting up a laptop. Ducky was simply sitting and looking at him. Tim couldn't bear the gaze. He looked away.

"Tim...we're ready to start. Okay?"

Tim nodded.

"Look at the monitor, Timothy," Ducky said. It was calm, but Tim couldn't resist the order. He looked at the monitor.

"This is from the week before you joined the group, Tim," Abby said. "It's a transcript of a chat."

Tim looked...and couldn't help reading.

"What do you see here, Timothy?" Ducky asked after a moment.

Tim said nothing.

"What do you see?" Ducky asked again, more sternly. "Answer the question, Timothy."

"Talking about getting someone to join them," he whispered.

"Who?"

"Don't know."

"Then, keep reading."

Tim did...and saw his own name. He swallowed.

"Who, Timothy?"

"Me," he whispered.

"That's right. This is a week before you first showed up on the site."

Tim looked from the screen to Ducky...and then to Abby. He said nothing.

"Next, Abigail?"

Abby nodded and turned the laptop toward her while Tim waited. He wasn't sure where they were going with this stuff, but he didn't feel he had any other option than to sit and wait.

...but that didn't mean that he had to really listen.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs, Tony and Ziva filed into Vance's office. The presence of Faith Coleman was more or less unsurprising. Considering what had happened, the idea that there wouldn't be some kind of need for a lawyer was almost laughable.

"Agent Gibbs," Faith said, nodding.

"Commander Coleman."

"Have a seat," Vance said, gesturing.

They sat down without a word.

"The FBI is preparing their assessment of what happened and what role NCIS played. Now, I have not yet seen their assessment, but it doesn't make much sense to wait for them to speak. I know NCIS has been conducting their own investigation, partially in concert with the FBI, and you need to have your own statement prepared laying out the events as you say they occurred."

"We have video _showing_ what happened," Tony protested. "Why would there be any variation?"

Faith nodded. "Yes, there is unlikely to be any variation in the takedown. However, the events that _led_ you to that house are _not_ documented on video."

"And that's where we need your statements," Vance said, taking the lead. "Dr. Mallard has indicated that there is some problem with Agent McGee, something that will prevent him from making a statement for the time being. In his absence, we need to get your accounts of what happened which led to the deaths of fifteen people."

Tony couldn't hold back the wince at the number...and the knowledge that Tim had almost _been_ one of that number.

"Who would like to start?" Faith asked, looking around expectantly.

"Agent Gibbs," Vance said.

It was not a suggestion...and Gibbs knew that, as team leader, it really was his place to speak for his team. ...and yet, what was he going to say? How was he going to explain all that they'd found...and all that Tim had done? He thought back to what Ducky said and suddenly realized just what Ducky had _actually_ been saying, rather than what he had chosen to hear.

Gibbs prided himself on the accuracy of his gut...and he couldn't believe that he could be so wrong about Tim that he could have been a closet would-be killer. ...but then, he had a hard time accepting that Tim could be unaware of what had been going on and could have changed so much in a relatively short time.

"Agent Gibbs?" Faith asked.

Gibbs looked at Faith and then at Vance...and then at the remainder of his team...and he made a decision.

"I'm afraid that making a full statement now regarding what happened would lead to...problems."

"In what way?" Faith asked.

"Agent McGee has been injured," he said, the formal words feeling strange in his mouth, "and Dr. Mallard feels that there has been some..." He cast around for the right term. "...mental manipulation."

"Meaning?"

"He and Abigail Sciuto are talking to Agent McGee right now, and he is convinced that Agent McGee was brainwashed."

Vance furrowed his brow.

"When? Agent McGee has been at work every day."

"That's where Dr. Mallard's evaluation is going to be important. Apparently, he's already spoken to a psychiatrist."

"And why is this so very important for your account?" Faith asked.

"Because the reason we were at that house was because McGee had gone there, and we can't really understand what took him there until Ducky finishes his evaluation."

Faith looked at him for a long moment and then nodded.

"All right. I'll start drafting a statement based on what you've already uncovered, and I'll add that Dr. Mallard has an evaluation in progress of Agent McGee's mental status. You think there has been some sort of damage?"

"Dr. Mallard seemed very sure."

"But you're not?" Faith asked.

"I'm reserving judgment. Ducky's the one with the degree."

"What does your _gut_ say, Agent Gibbs?" Faith asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That something must have happened. I just don't know what it is. Yet."

"All right. I can wait. Director Vance, what you've already shared with me will take some time to work through. Once I've drafted it, I'll make an appointment with you. If Dr. Mallard finishes his evaluation soon, you can contact me and let me know. This can't be delayed but there _is_ some leeway."

She got to her feet, took hold of her briefcase, nodded to Vance and then walked out.

Vance looked at the team...and Tony and Ziva looked away.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"No!" Tim shouted. He didn't even know where he'd got the breath to shout. All he knew was that he couldn't accept what Ducky and Abby were showing him.

...what he himself could see plain as day.

He closed his eyes, breathing heavily, painfully. He felt a gentle hand on his arm and he pulled it away. Then, the oxygen mask was again placed over his face.

"Timothy, can you hear me?"

Tim shook his head.

"Timothy."

Again, Tim shook his head.

"It's not...true...can't be..."

He felt arms around him. He tried to push the arms away from him. He didn't want to be comforted by these people who were insisting on telling him these things...things that couldn't be true. There had been problems, but it couldn't be as bad as they were trying to tell him.

The arms wouldn't let him go.

"It _is_ true, Tim. It _is_. We wouldn't lie to you!"

"Can't be...no! ...my friends..."

"More than likely, Timothy, some of them probably did genuinely enjoy your company, but..."

"No!" Tim shouted again. He tried to put his hands over his ears, to block out the words.

"...but those who were calling the shots were doing so to keep you happy and in their power," Ducky finished.

Tim heard him. He wanted to make Ducky stop talking. He wanted them to leave him alone. It wasn't possible that he was so very wrong.

"Timmy, it's nothing you did wrong. They were _planning_ this!"

"Leave...me...alone!" he struggled to push the arms away again. "Stop!"

The arms wouldn't leave.

"Timothy, your health and happiness meant nothing to these people. They were only concerned about using your ideas to kill!"

"No!"

"Yes. You know that it's true because _you_ discovered it first!"

"Maybe...I was...wrong..."

"No. You weren't. You were spot-on in your estimation. They were ready to kill. They _did_ kill people who knew about them. These are not people to admire. They are murderers!"

Tim shook his head again.

"Tim, they were hacking the power company! They were stealing materials!"

"They were the ones who attempted to hack the Pentagon, are they not?"

Tim tried to deny it, tried to say no again...but he couldn't.

"Timothy, I offered you my help before. You may find it hard to believe, but that is what we are trying to do for you now. Abigail and I wish to help you see what's true...to see what you _know_ is true. You cannot deny the things you previously discovered for yourself. It is because of your efforts to find the truth that we were able to follow in your footsteps and reach the house."

"I'm...a traitor!"

"No, Timothy. You are a good man who could not allow more wrong to be done once you knew it had happened."

"I killed...my friend!"

"To save an innocent man."

"I wish...I didn't want to...survive..."

"Nevertheless, you have. You are alive and that, whether you believe it or not, is a very good thing."

"You hate me. Everyone...hates me...no one wants me around..."

The arms tightened.

"No, that's not true, Tim! We _wanted_ you around...but the _real_ you. Not the one that took his place! We like you, Tim! We really do!"

"No. No, you don't think...I can...do anything...right..."

"Yes, I do."

"Liar!" Tim tried to pull away again...but still, he couldn't.

There was a weight on the bed.

"Timothy, look at me."

"No!"

"Yes. Look at me, now, Timothy."

Against his will, Tim opened his eyes and looked at Ducky.

Ducky put both hands on Tim's shoulders...and _smiled_ at him.

"I _know_ this is difficult for you to accept, Timothy, but it _is_ the truth and if you are willing to fight your horror, fight your fear...and fight the belief instilled in you by skillful manipulators, you have _so_ much to gain. Please, Timothy...let us help you."

Tim looked at Ducky and then chanced looking up at Abby, who was hugging him. She also _smiled_ at him.

...and Tim began to sob, much as he had the first time Ducky had offered his help. Heart-wrenching sobs wracked his body and he finally stopped struggling. He couldn't speak. He couldn't really hear whatever meaningless words Abby was speaking to him.

...but he could feel her arms around him. He could feel Ducky's hands on his shoulders.

Things he had missed...if he were truly honest with himself.

"I'm here, Tim," Abby whispered in his ear. "I'm right here."

"We are _both_ here for you...and many others will be, as well."

...and again, if he was honest, that was the most wonderful thing he had heard in a very long time...


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"_The more extensive a man's knowledge of what has been done, __the greater will be his power of knowing what to do."  
><em>_Benjamin Disraeli_

At the end of the day, Ducky was forced to leave Tim in the hospital and return to NCIS to give a report of what was going on. He was gratified that his suspicions were more-or-less confirmed, but it was sad to see Tim's pain at confronting reality, at realizing what had been done to him. Abby had decided to stay, not to push, but to make sure Tim had contact with someone at all times. They didn't want him to slide back into what would be easier to believe because he had no evidence to the contrary.

Ducky had decided to suggest that the others also come to visit in the hopes of getting Tim to connect with them again...but he wasn't sure that Tony and Ziva were ready to face that yet. They had their own demons to conquer...and seeing as Tim was the indirect cause of those demons, it might be easier for them to stay away.

When he arrived at NCIS, he was moderately surprised to see them all still there, sitting in the bullpen. When he walked over to their desks, he had their undivided, albeit silent, attention.

Ducky looked at them and then gestured to the elevator. They all got up and followed him, first into the elevator and then up to Vance's office. If they had any misgivings about Ducky making a report to Vance, they said nothing against it. Ducky stopped at the desk of Ducky's assistant, Pamela Long.

"I need to make a report to Director Vance. Is he available?" Ducky asked politely.

"Let me check." She picked up the phone. "Director, Dr. Mallard says he would like to make a report. Do you have the–? Okay." She hung up. "You can go on in."

"Thank you, kindly," Ducky said and led his little band of followers into the office.

"Dr. Mallard," Vance said. "Agent Gibbs...and company. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

"In concert with a psychiatrist on staff at the hospital, I've completed my preliminary observations of Agent McGee and, having been informed that a report would be necessary, I thought it wise to come and do it now. ...and since this information will be important for Agent Gibbs and his team, I felt it best that they be here to listen as well."

"You don't have to make it too formal, Dr. Mallard."

Ducky smiled. "Perhaps. I assume that you will want this on record, however."

"Yes, very likely. Have a seat."

"Thank you." Ducky seated himself. The others followed suit.

"So you have an understanding of what's going on with Agent McGee?"

"I have hit upon what I feel explains it. Details will depend on further evaluations."

"Go ahead."

"Timothy...Agent McGee was recruited to this group about a year ago and since then was skillfully manipulated to believe what they told him."

"Brainwashed?" Vance asked, sounding a bit skeptical.

"In essence. He formed strong attachments to this group and believed in what they were doing...and after a time, what they told him as well...but he was beginning to question the rightness of what their actions. That's what led him to the house on that night...and to his subsequent decisions. But at this point, he is struggling to throw off this manipulation. It will take time. Currently, his point of view is...skewed."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that, anything you ask him about, he will take responsibility for. He feels that he is a traitor. This betrayal runs the gamut from the members of this group who were killed to NCIS and the people here. Agent McGee is also injured and his physical weakness is contributing to his psychological issues. He lacks the physical energy it will require to fight what has been ingrained in his mind. Currently, the greatest necessity is helping Timothy understand what reality is again. To this end, Abigail Sciuto is staying with him, maintaining the contact he needs with his former life, reacquainting him with it."

"Former?"

"Yes. Agent McGee has become more-or-less divorced from the life he was leading before. That includes former interests, former friends, even his coworkers here. All have been intentionally severed. At first, the isolation was only sporadic, but as time went on, he encouraged the separation because it was easier to deal with. Ms. Sciuto and I realized that he was spending no time with any of his former associates beyond the minimum required by his job. He felt, and to some degree _still_ feels, that everyone here hated him, rejected anything he had to offer and resented his presence."

"But that's..." Tony began and then subsided.

"Whether it's true or not, Anthony," Ducky said, "this is the attitude that was so carefully cultivated by the leaders of this group. Ms. Sciuto can tell you the details better, but Agent McGee rose quickly through the ranks, passing those who had been members for much longer. His skills were vital to these people...and he was encouraged accordingly. They didn't want to lose him which means that they told him the kinds of things that would pander to his ego."

Vance sat back, listening to what Ducky said, without much comment. His expression revealed nothing of what he was thinking.

"Right now, even with the blatant evidence of the manipulation being shown him, Agent McGee is having a hard time accepting it. This is due to a number of factors, but the plain fact of the matter is that he cannot deal with all the complexities of this case at this moment. Eventually, he will, but right now, it would be a mistake to try and get much more from him."

Vance was quiet for a few seconds.

"What about any account of what he had planned on doing at the house, and why he decided to go on that night?"

Ducky took a breath and considered. "Well...as I said, he would take much of the onus onto himself. It would be inaccurate at best...but the actual steps along the way, provided we could keep him on subject, would more than likely give you a road map of what began that night."

"All right. I'll take your evaluation under advisement. I'll update Commander Coleman. As soon as it's feasible, get Agent McGee's account. Inaccurate or not, we have to start somewhere." Director Vance stood and walked to his desk. "Agent McGee has been a valuable employee here, but this situation puts his continued employment on shaky ground."

"Director Vance, Agent McGee has shown remarkable strength and moral character in his efforts to fight against this group!" Ducky protested, also rising to his feet. "Although there are some questionable decisions he made, they are not such that I would say he should no longer be employed here!"

"Agent McGee was taken in by a group planning on launching an assault on the government of this country. A federal agent."

"And a good man."

"I don't disagree with you, Dr. Mallard, but the facts, such as we know them now, point to a political nightmare."

"And Agent McGee must pay the ultimate price for that?"

"Not necessarily, but I can't promise anything right now. Once you get the whole story, then I can better evaluate what will happen. NCIS is responsible for the deaths of fifteen people, Dr. Mallard. Fifteen in one night. These weren't homeless, faceless, nameless people the public will forget. These were well-placed computer programmers. They were businessmen. All clean-cut. All employed, well-educated. Like it or not, that will matter more. There will need to be a reason and until we know the whole story, you should be aware of what will be said...and what kind of consequences might arise from those statements." Before Ducky could say more, Vance held up his hand. "I'm not calling for his blood, Dr. Mallard. I just want you all to be aware of what the potential fallout could be. ...for _all _of the agents concerned, not just Agent McGee." He looked at the others in the room.

"We will be...made examples of, yes?" Ziva asked quietly.

"It's possible. Depends on what SECNAV has to say about it and depends on the media spin."

"And if not us, then just McGee?" Tony asked.

"That's far more likely."

"And you'll support this, Leon?" Gibbs asked.

"I don't have the political clout to fight it should it come to that, Gibbs," Vance admitted candidly. "My connections aren't what they used to be."

"What are you saying, then?" Ducky asked.

"You all might have to make a decision. It's not one I like, but it might come to your having to choose between your own jobs and Agent McGee's job."

"That's ridiculous!" Tony burst out.

Vance was unfazed. "That's reality, Agent DiNozzo. You people may not like to acknowledge it, but it exists...and this could be it. Very easily."

"We can't let McGee get railroaded just because he can't speak for himself!"

"This isn't going to happen tomorrow, Agent DiNozzo...nor is it a foregone conclusion, but it's a distinct possibility...you'll have to get used to it."

Tony got to his feet. "Get _used_ to it? Like I'm supposed to get used to the fact that _I'm_ one of the people who shot McGee? Like McGee has to get used to the fact that Gibbs and I shot him? I said it was ridiculous and I meant it. It's stupid, Director! It's not right, and I don't have to get used to that!" He turned and stormed out of the office.

Rather than talk about what had just happened, Vance turned back to Ducky.

"Was there anything else you needed to talk about, Dr. Mallard?"

"No. I believe that's all for now."

"All right. Thank you for giving a preliminary report. I appreciate it. You should probably get back to your tasks."

"Here or at the hospital?" Ducky asked shrewdly.

Vance actually smiled and just sat down at his desk.

"You're dismissed," he said.

Ducky looked at Ziva and Gibbs and nodded. The three of them left the office.

"This is not right," Ziva said as they walked out.

"Why don't we reconvene in a conference room?" Ducky suggested. He smiled. "If we can locate Anthony."

"I'm here," Tony said, glumly. He was leaning over the balcony, looking down at the bullpen.

"We have more to discuss beyond the official report," Ducky said. "Are you willing?"

"Yeah. Okay."

"Excellent."

Ducky took the lead again.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby was surprisingly silent...but she was there. Tim couldn't decide if he actually wanted her there or not. She had started out talking like...like the old days, but then, she had lapsed into silence. She had once taken his hand, but he hadn't let her hold on for long.

Instead, he had slept...only to awaken and see her still there.

"Why are you still here?" he whispered...not sure if he was happy about it or not.

"Because you are," Abby said with a hesitant smile. "I can't leave you alone."

"Why not? You did before."

"I'm here now."

Tim leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?" he said dully.

"Do you believe us?"

"What do you mean?"

"All that stuff we showed you...everything that they did. Do you think we're lying about it?"

Tim shrugged. He didn't want to think about that.

"No, Tim. Do you? ...because we wouldn't lie."

"Why do you think they would?" Tim asked.

"It's not what we _think_. It's what we found...and it's what _you_ found, Tim. This was in the computer! You opened it up!"

Tim winced. He didn't like the reminder.

"Tim, it was a _good_ thing that you did. You saved so many people!"

"...and how many did I kill?" Tim asked. "How many people died...because of what I did?"

Abby tried to take hold of his hand again...and again, he pulled away.

"It wasn't what _you_ did, Tim! It was what they chose to do!"

"I killed my best friend," Tim said. "Emil was my friend. He helped me all the way along. ...and I killed him. I shot him!"

"He was going to kill Gibbs, Tim!"

"I know."

"And you wanted to keep him from doing that!"

"I didn't," Tim said, shaking his head. "I didn't...care about...about Gibbs. I...It was just...just wrong. I knew it was wrong."

He was heading toward tears again, and he didn't want to cry, show weakness. Abby's face appeared over his head. She was serious but not angry.

"You knew it was wrong...because you didn't want Gibbs to die, Tim! It's okay to admit that! It's not wrong to admit that you didn't want him dead."

"I didn't want Emil to die."

"And you had to choose...and I'm sorry you did, Tim. It must have been horrible...but you knew what you had to do!"

Tim took a painful quick breath and let it out with some tears. Abby pulled him into her arms and hugged him.

"Tim, listen. I know you don't like to hear it, but you made the right choice! Those were bad people! They only wanted to hurt..."

"No! No, they didn't! They were just trying to..."

"Trying to kill anyone who might talk about them, using your ideas to kill people, hacking into power companies, hacking into the _Pentagon_, and trying to kill Gibbs, Tony and Ziva when they had only knocked on the door! These are not nice people, Tim! You've got to _know_ that!"

Tim shook his head. Somewhere inside him was a voice growing steadily louder, trying to make him listen. ...and it was saying the same things Abby was saying.

"Tim, you _have_ to know this! You're too smart for this to be what you think!"

"I don't..."

"You chose this, Tim! You did! We wouldn't have known if you hadn't decided to stop them! Why did you choose to do it if you didn't want to stop them?"

"I didn't want anyone to die...except me."

Abby's arms tightened around him.

"No. No, Tim. You don't want to die."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. Because you're Tim and I know you, Tim! I know you, and you aren't like that. You don't run away from the problems you're having. This is...well, it's bad, but it's not what you need to run from! I'm here to help! Ducky is here! Everyone else will be here to help you! And your family!"

Tim shook his head. "It's not...I don't..."

Abby let him go and looked him in the eye.

"Tim...you have to tell me now. Do you want us to leave you alone? If you don't want to be around us...you have to say. Because I want you back, but if you don't _want_ to be back, I can't make you. Can you just tell me that? Even if everything else is still screwed up, can you tell me that much?"

Tim closed his eyes and breathed painfully.

"Tell me, Tim. What do you _want_?"

Tim was silent for a few minutes. For a wonder, Abby said nothing.

"I want..." Tim couldn't say it, couldn't admit to the big things yet. He opened his eyes. "...would you hug me...again...Abby?"

Abby smiled and Tim found that he'd missed her smile.

"I'll hug you, Tim," she said and put her arms around him.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chaper 15**

"_Progress everywhere today does seem to come so very heavily disguised as Chaos."  
><em>_Joyce Grenfell_

"All right," Ducky said as they all sat down in the conference room. "There are a few other things that I need to discuss with you all."

"They're going to throw Tim under the bus, Ducky!" Tony said, angrily. "What else is there to discuss?"

"While that would be unfortunate and something we should strive to avoid, Anthony, recovering Timothy's mental health is more important than his job."

"Meaning?" Ziva asked.

"Meaning that, in order to aid Timothy's recovery, he is going to need to be told that what he has been thinking is wrong...and more than that, he will need to be _shown_ that he was wrong."

"What exactly is he thinking about us?"

"It's not as simple as what he _thinks_, Ziva. We, _and_ he, are fighting against what has been drummed into him until it's become automatic. He's not _thinking_ about it unless forced to do so. He has what he _knows_ fighting against what he has been _told_ almost nonstop for the last year. This is so much more complex than you all wish it to be. It isn't about some kind of mental weakness that makes Timothy himself weak for falling into this. It isn't a physical ailment that can be easily healed. We can't just tell Timothy that it was a mistake and move on...because he _knows_ that he messed up. He _knows_ that a significant part of this isolation was his own doing. ...but _we_ can't allow him to take on all the responsibility...because we bear a significant portion of the blame...and because doing so would not help."

"What did _we_ do?" Ziva asked. "He is the one who pushed _us_ away."

"Yes...but we are also the ones who helped him feel that he had nothing to offer." Ducky raised his hand as Ziva started to speak. "Now, I'm not saying that we actually _felt_ that way, but even when we could see how important something was to him, how vital he thought a particular train of thought was, we didn't give him the hearing he probably deserved. ...and when his attitude started to change so drastically, we did nothing more than get angry at him for acting as he was. I am _not_ excusing myself. I, too, chose to treat Timothy's shift in personality as an annoyance. I should have seen more than I did. I realized too late that there might be more to this change than I thought."

"So...what are you telling us to do?" Tony asked.

"I'm not _telling_ you anything. There are no orders being given here. I am going to make a suggestion...one that none of you may like much."

"What is it?" Gibbs asked.

"Timothy needs your patience..._and _your presence."

"Presence?"

"Yes. He needs to see that he was wrong...and see that you won't, as he will see it, abandon him, even if he acts in ways that should drive you away. He will be testing you, even if it's not a conscious test he's giving."

"You're saying that we just have to take whatever he does?"

Ducky smiled. "No, actually. You should feel free to take him to task, but don't let his behavior drive you away. Not this time."

There was a profound silence.

"If you can't do this, you need to avoid coming until Timothy has recovered more...because another perceived abandonment would be extremely detrimental."

"I...I don't know, Ducky," Tony said, awkwardly. "I mean...it's not that...that I don't want McGee back to normal...but...why is...why does he need _us _there?"

"Because...he thinks you hate him, and right now, he probably believes that _you_ made the first steps in pushing him away, not the other way around. ...if nothing else, I believe that, deep down, he misses you all. He wouldn't speak of his family, but I would wager that the isolation extended to them as well. There are a lot of bridges that Timothy has burned and now must rebuild...if it's possible. And even if it _is_ possible, it will be difficult for him."

"What about Gibbs and me?" Tony asked. "We _shot_ him!"

"Yes...and right now, the only thing Timothy hates about that is the fact that you missed."

"What?"

"I was not joking when I told Director Vance that Timothy considers himself a traitor," Ducky said soberly. "Convicted traitors deserve to die, and Timothy has convicted himself. He went to that house expecting nothing less than death...and he considered death to be his just deserts."

"He's suicidal?"

"Surprisingly, no. I don't believe he is. At least not _actively_ suicidal. His wish for death extends only so far as his mind believes what it has been told."

"And how far is that?" Gibbs asked.

"Not as far as it was...and it will become even less, given time."

"Will he hate us in the beginning?" Ziva asked.

Ducky sighed. "I don't know, to be honest. He may certainly give that off as a sentiment, but it's not necessarily going to be true."

"And we would have to deal with that?"

"Yes...for now. You can tell him what is the truth. You can confront him with his behavior...but you must follow that up with the fact that you want him back. ...but only if you actually do. Lies won't help."

Tony looked at Gibbs, who typically said nothing, and then at Ziva...and then back at Ducky.

"Ducky...be honest. Do you really think that all that stuff McGee said to us over the last year was just a way to push us away? Do you really think that he actually cares about whether or not we'd take him back? ...and is this really not as bad as it seems?"

Ducky looked at Tony and then at Ziva and Gibbs. Tony had asked the questions, but they all wanted to know...even Gibbs.

"All of it? Probably not. Some of it was likely unexpressed frustrations that, in the normal course of things, would not have ever been mentioned. Does he care about your wanting to take him back? Absolutely. Particularly when he's recovered more. As for it being as bad as it seems...that I can't say for certain. If it were all up to me, then, no, it wouldn't be as bad as it seems. However, it's not up to me."

"Would McGee...agree with you?" Ziva asked.

"At this point? Probably not...unless Abigail has worked her magic."

"She's okay with all this?"

"She has gone through all the evidence of Timothy's manipulation with me and she understands much more just what was done to him...and it has helped her get through her own feelings of betrayal."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Believe it or not, Jethro, Abigail has proved her willingness to help Timothy recover...and she is still with him even now."

Ducky looked around at them all.

"Regardless of what you decide, I will be returning to the hospital now. If you would like to come at any time, you may feel free."

He got up and left the conference room.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs looked at Tony and Ziva.

"Are you ready to deal with McGee?" he asked bluntly.

"Honestly, Boss...I don't know if I'm ready for that yet."

"When will we hear about the results of the investigation about...all the people who were killed?" Ziva asked.

"Don't know. FBI is doing their part. Should be sooner rather than later."

"When do you think we will be asked to talk about McGee's role...and what his punishment should be? ...and what will we say?"

"I don't have any answers," Tony said.

"We're going to have to find some," Gibbs said. "Soon."

"Now?" Tony asked. "I don't know if I could go to the...to the hospital right now."

"All right. Let's talk about it."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby kept her arms around Tim for a long time...until he fell asleep again. He was still recovering from his injuries, and that revealed itself in his frequent sleeping.

She stared at him as he slept...and was moderately surprised to notice that, when he was asleep, she couldn't see anything to mark his mind as dramatically different from how it had been before. He was clearly hurt, but he was healing. His mind...

She bit her lip and looked at him. Abby felt as though she had done very little to help him...and it had been hard to keep her patience when it seemed so clear to _her_ what Tim needed to do. Why couldn't he see what was real?

...but he wasn't lying. She was sure of that. His confusion was real.

She leaned over and kissed his forehead.

"Get better, Tim."

"How is he?"

The soft voice startled her and she turned around.

Instead of Ducky as she'd expected, she saw Tony, Ziva and Gibbs standing awkwardly in the doorway. She smiled.

"He's...a little better," she said. "He asked me to hug him."

"Sounds a _lot_ better," Tony said.

"Are you coming to see him or just to look and go?"

Gibbs pulled up a chair and sat down.

"How long has he been sleeping?" Ziva asked.

"About an hour. He hasn't been sleeping as much as he was before...and he's...a bit better."

Ziva nodded...and sat down. Tony hesitated for a moment longer and then sat down as well. Abby grinned at them and sat beside Tim.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up again and noticed that Abby's arms were no longer around him. That was a disappointment. She was gone. He had thought she was different, but it looked like he'd been right before.

He shifted a little and winced at the pain.

"McGee?"

He froze. That wasn't a voice he'd expected to hear.

"McGee, are you awake?"

Did he really want to confront that voice? Did he really want to know what he'd see if he opened his eyes?

A hand caressed his cheek.

"Come on, Tim. I know you're awake. I can tell. Open your eyes."

Tim shook his head slightly. He didn't want to see the owner of that voice. He didn't want to see Abby...and risk knowing that she was just going to say goodbye again. He didn't want to face the confusion that all these people brought to him.

"McGee?"

He couldn't resist the urge to see them though. Whoever was there...even as he wished he wasn't seeing them, he really _really_ wanted to.

He opened his eyes...and saw them _all_ there. He looked at them, worriedly, saying nothing. His eyes roved over them all.

"Hey, McGee...mind if we visit?" Tony asked with a bit of a smile.

Tim thought about it. He thought about how nice it had felt to have Abby and Ducky telling him that they were there, how much he had wanted to believe it when Abby said other people cared, too. ...and a part of him wondered when it had become so hard to believe.

"McGee...if you wish us to go, we will," Ziva said, "but we wish to stay if you will let us."

"Tim?" Abby asked gently. "What do you want?"

It was the same question she'd asked before.

"I...don't mind...if you're here," Tim whispered. It was the most frightening thing he'd said in a long time...but it felt good to say it.

"You don't mind?" Tony asked.

Tim shook his head. "I don't...mind."

He was rewarded with relieved smiles.

"Great!" Tony said...a little _too_ enthusiastically to be genuine.

...but Tim found that he really didn't mind. They didn't talk much, but they were there...and that mattered.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

"_Wisdom is scar tissue in disguise."_

_Three weeks later..._

As the days went by, all was _not_ smooth sailing. It couldn't have been in any case, but it definitely _wasn't_. As Tim recovered physically, he began to attempt to push them away again...only this time, they could see what he was doing. He was testing them, because the trust wasn't quite there yet. The first time he acted up again, he almost succeeded in driving them away. They hadn't realized just how sharp Tim's tongue could be when he wanted it to be. In fact, Tony walked out of the room, intent on leaving after Tim slammed him for shooting him. He had been almost out of the hospital before realizing what Tim was doing...and then, he took a deep breath and went back in...

Tim was released from the hospital, and finally started seeing a psychiatrist...still not perfect, but finally he was talking.

...but he wasn't the only one with things to say...

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You ready to do this, Director Vance? You're taking a real risk," the SECNAV said.

Vance almost rolled his eyes, but resisted.

"Not with all the evidence gathered by the FBI and analyzed and confirmed by our people. Even the victims' families are supporting what we have to say. They're not happy about it, but no lawsuits...by some miracle. Two of the ringleaders survived the firefight and they're going to be prosecuted. There's someone for the public to blame."

"It's still a risk. The media hasn't been too nice about it."

"Why do you think I'm making a public statement jointly with the FBI?"

"It'd be easier to cut him loose."

"Easier, maybe. Not better."

"I'm not hanging with you if it comes to that."

Vance smiled. "I didn't expect you to. ...but I won't hang." He walked out of his office, heading to the meeting.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"...and after realizing what was really happening, my agent took it upon himself to stop it. It was mistake, and he was lucky that his team found out what he was planning. Once we get to the house, we have real-time video showing exactly what happened."

The FBI spokesman took over. "In respect for the families of the victims, we will not be releasing the video to the press. You all have received the stills released for publication. It is enough to show you that we have the exact sequence of events of that night. The victims all suffered from extensive mental manipulation by the leaders of this group whose intention was to take over the government in order to, as they stated on their website, bring the world under the control of the intelligent people. You have pages from the site in your press packet."

Hands raised.

"Yes?"

"Matthias Terrenton, ZNN. I understand that one of the _members_ and _survivors_ is an agent with NCIS. Any comment on his role as a member of the group?"

Vance nodded. "My agent _was_ one of the victims. He was manipulated as the others had been. All the members of the group were well-educated, intelligent people. He was no different, and his role in this group was the same as the others until he realized just how serious things were. He is currently undergoing therapy and when he's recovered, he will resume his duties."

"You're not worried that this is a sign of some kind of...weakness, a tendency to be taken in by the...unsavory elements of society?"

Vance actually knew that he would have to talk to Tim about this very thing later on, but he wasn't going to let the members of the press know that.

"No. I support all my agents' actions in a situation that could not have ended perfectly."

Another hand raised. The FBI spokesman took charge again.

"Yes?"

"When will we be getting a complete timeline and list of all the people who survived?"

"A timeline will be released as soon as we have all the details from the survivors. Those who have survived are in therapy and are not considered criminals. No charges will be filed against them. Thus, we ask, on behalf of the families, for privacy as they deal with a very difficult process of recovery. Once the surviving leaders are brought to trial, more details will be released. That's all we have time for now. Thank you."

The journalists in the group clamored for attention, but one voice made itself heard above the rest.

"Your agent was involved in trying to take down the government. Do you think he's trustworthy?"

Vance stopped and turned back to the group. He couldn't see who had asked the question...but he answered it all the same.

"I trust my agent to make the right decisions."

Then, he walked out and ignored all other questions.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two weeks later..._

"Come in, Tim. Have a seat."

Tim sat down, feeling the same sense of discomfort he always did. First, there was the fact that he had to talk about the fact that he'd been so cleverly manipulated. It made him feel like a total wuss. Then, there was the fact that, even though he understood that it _was_ manipulation, he still wanted to believe it all was true. It would just be easier. Then, there was the fact that he had to call and talk to his family. He'd called them once...and hung up before the machine could even click on. Soon, he'd have to call them and try to take back all the nasty things he'd said...but he hadn't done it yet.

"So?"

Tim shrugged.

"You can't get away with that here, Tim. You know it. Try again."

Tim fought against the anger that was still too easy to feel, the automatic feeling of being attacked, of being put down. He was aware of it now, but that didn't really change the fact that he still felt it when there was any kind of disagreement...but at the same time, he was horribly afraid of messing up.

"How are you feeling right now? This very second."

"Angry. Afraid. Frustrated that I'm feeling that way."

"Okay. That's good."

Tim laughed incredulously. "It's been over a month since..."

"...since you started trying to think for yourself again."

"I didn't..." Tim cut himself off.

"Remember, Tim, this is not a comment on your value. The plain fact of the matter is that you ended up in a situation where you were letting those people decide what you were going to think. It's a credit to you that you fought that off long enough to do what you did."

"Get people killed," Tim mumbled. "That's all I did. People I thought were my friends died, and the people who really _were_ my friends _could_ have died. I don't see very much admirable that I did."

"Yes, you do."

"No!"

"Yes, Tim. We talked about this. You made mistakes, but you also did something very good in bringing what these people were planning to light. You saved a lot of people."

"And killed others."

"Yes."

"I keep dreaming of...of..."

"Of what?"

"Killing Emil." Tim took a deep breath and let it out all at once. "Sometimes...I can't believe that it's better that I...that I killed him rather than let him kill Gibbs. ...but at the same time, I can't believe I feel that way!"

"Tim, this is not a black-and-white situation. From what I've been told, Emil had been a good person. He had been someone a lot like you, but he got sucked in just like you did...only he'd been there longer and was a lot more controlled than you. We'll never know if your friendship was genuine on his side, but whether it was or not, you had to kill someone to save someone else."

Tim closed his eyes and leaned forward. He felt a comforting hand on his back.

"I hate feeling like this. This...This conflict about everything I think. I hate it."

"It will take time, Tim, but you're making good progress."

"I can't believe they haven't all given up on me."

"Your colleagues and friends?"

Tim nodded.

"They care about you...and, Tim, they more than likely feel guilty."

"About what?"

"About driving you away, treating you too lightly...not noticing how much you'd changed and the reason for it."

"I drove them away. It was my fault."

"No, Tim. You can't take all the blame...any more than they can. You have to accept reality...and reality isn't that you're wrong about everything. It's that...things are messy."

Tim smiled...and sniffed.

"Too messy. I hate it."

"I know...but you're making. It's going to take time, but you're going to make it. All right?"

"All right."

"Good. Now, sit back, relax. Let's get you into a state where you can start to feel that confidence again. You ready to relax?"

Tim sat up and then leaned against the chair. He rested his head on the back and closed his eyes. He was still so tense about the simplest things that every session contained a component of helping him release his stress and completely relax. They were able to talk about things more after he'd let go of some of his tension.

"Okay, Tim. I want you to think about your safe place..."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim walked out of the office and headed for the bus stop. He didn't want to drive while he still felt so unsettled. Even after his sessions...or _especially_ after his sessions, he questioned the wisdom of what he was doing, trying to get back to how things had been before. He sat down on the bench and waited for his bus to come. Thankfully, there was no one else there right now.

"Hey, McGee."

Tim looked up in surprise.

"Tony...what are you...doing...here?"

Tony smiled ruefully. "I was going to call you and offer to take you to your appointment, but I chickened out...and so I decided to come and pick you up instead."

Tim managed a smile in return.

"You don't have to."

"I know."

"Um...I'm not...sure it's a good idea."

Tony walked over and sat beside him.

"It is a good idea because...we want to..."

"We?"

"Your former nemeses."

Tim winced and looked away.

"Sorry, McGee... I'm...really sorry I shot you."

"You barely nicked me."

"Doesn't matter...because...at the time, even if I'd known it was you...I wouldn't have cared too much."

"Neither would I."

"I know...but for different reasons."

Tim shook his head. "No, it would have been the same reason. I'm a traitor...and I still feel that way, Tony."

"Yeah...I know...but I don't."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, and then, Tim realized that Tony hadn't ever finished his thought.

"You said that...you wanted to do something?"

"Oh, yeah. We wanted to see if you wouldn't mind having dinner with us. The team, plus Abby and Ducky and Jimmy. Just dinner. Ziva's cooking. I was supposed to specifically tell you that."

Tim smiled a little.

"Will you come?"

"It'll be awkward. I'm not really...cured yet."

"Yeah, but that's okay. It's better to be awkward and have you there than to be comfortable and have you gone."

"Really? I have to ask because...I don't really believe you."

Tony smiled, and nodded. "Really. We're not going to let you push us away this time. You want to come?"

"I don't know if I _want_ to...but I will."

"Great! Come on!"

Tim got up and followed Tony back to his car...and he wondered how this would go.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The eating part went fine. No one said much beyond trivial discussions of the day, but underneath it all was a feeling that more needed to be said...and finally, Tim couldn't bear it any longer.

"Why did you really want me to come here?" he asked.

Instantly, the room went quiet...and Tim felt guilty.

"Sorry," he whispered.

Instantly, Abby scooted close to him and hugged him tightly.

"It's okay, Tim. We weren't sure how to start the conversation anyway. This is as good as any."

"No, it's not. There are a lot better ways..." Tim mumbled.

"Maybe so, Timothy, but this works. We did have an ulterior motive for asking you to come here."

"What is it?" Tim asked, looking at Ducky, but not daring to look at the others.

Jimmy grinned at him. "Nothing bad, McGee. Promise. If it was bad, we wouldn't have fed you first."

Tim felt the omnipresent distrust well up. He tried to push that away, knowing that there was no reason to feel that way other than habit.

"Then, what?" he asked.

"We have not really been able to speak to you since you began your therapy. All the times we have been with you have been..."

"...kinda pitiful, actually," Tony said. "Not because _you_ were doing anything wrong, but we just didn't know what to say. We just wanted to show you that we weren't going anywhere."

"We want you to know, once and for all, that we really want you back, Tim," Abby said. "We know that we messed up a lot and..."

"No, you didn't. It was me."

"It was all of us, Timothy," Ducky said. "We're not afraid of admitting it."

"Do you _want_ to come back to NCIS?" Gibbs asked shrewdly.

"Most days," Tim said.

"But not all?" Abby asked.

"Not all. Sometimes...it's still easier just to resent everyone...only I know it's wrong now."

"But we helped that more than we should have," Ziva said. "We could have done more to combat how you felt and we did nothing."

"I didn't make it easy," Tim said quickly.

"And when do we _ever_ make things easy for you, Probie?" Tony asked. "The least we could have done was listen."

"Or look," Jimmy added. "We all got mad and none of us cared...and...and that screwed us _all_ up."

"What we're saying, Timothy, is that if _you _are looking forward to coming back, we are looking forward to having you back with us."

"You really think Vance is going to _let_ me come back after all this?" Tim asked. "I mean...I saw the...the press conference on TV. I know he said he'd support me, but...but...those reporters are right. How can he trust me? How can _you_ trust me not to do this again?"

"Just how many cults do you think are out there looking to take down the federal government?" Tony asked. "...although, it might be an improvement..."

_Thwack!_

"Thanks, Boss."

"You know what I mean," Tim said earnestly. "They knew just how to suck me in and I fell for it! All of it! ...even now...there are...parts of me that don't believe what I'm trying to believe!" He looked at Gibbs. "There's a part of me that wishes I hadn't stopped him from killing you."

"But you did," Gibbs said. "That's what matters."

"Not to me."

"It's enough, Timothy. It really is."

"It doesn't change how I felt."

"It doesn't change how _we_ felt either, Tim!" Abby declared. "But it's okay, isn't it? Now?"

"Usually."

Abby smiled and hugged him again.

"I'll take that until you feel it more."

They all laughed and the tension eased a fraction. They chatted for a little while longer and then, Tim stared at them all.

"Why?" he asked.

"Why what, McGee?" Ziva asked.

"I was so awful to you all...and I was _trying_ to be. Why are you forgiving me and letting me come back? Why do you _want_ me back?"

"Because..." Ziva hesitated, unsure of what words would explain it correctly.

"...we like you, McGee!" Jimmy said. "The real you."

"How do you know that wasn't the real me?"

"Because we've known you for a lot longer than a year, McGee," Tony said. "You're not a very good actor and we know when you're being you. We just...didn't bother finding out why when you stopped being you."

"...and you can forgive me, just like that?"

"Not just like that," Abby said. "It's taken a while, but we forgive you. Do you forgive us?"

Tim nodded mutely. He looked at them, trying to see any sign of falsity in their expressions. There was none. He chanced a smile.

"You really want me back?"

"Yes!" It was spoken in unison and with complete sincerity...although Tony managed to infuse some pseudo-frustration into it.

Tim smiled a little more widely.

"Okay."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

After the dinner was over, Tony dropped Tim off at his apartment and Tim went inside and stared at his phone for nearly an hour before picking it up. Carefully, he dialed the number to call his family (he'd actually gone so far as to delete them from his speed dial). Then, he listened to the phone ring...and ring...and ring...and ring.

"_McGees."_

"M-Mom?"

"_Tim...is that you?"_

"Yeah."

There was a long hesitation. Tim didn't blame her one bit.

"_What...do you want?"_

"I wanted to...to say that..." Tim couldn't hold back the tears. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry...and I hope that...that someday...you might be able to forgive me for all the awful things I said to you."

There was no sound on the other end of the line, but after a few seconds, Tim heard the extensions click on.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I really...wish that...that I could take it all back."

"_Sometimes...it's not enough to be sorry, Tim."_

"I know, Dad," Tim said. "I wish I could give you a good reason, but I can't...I'm really..."

"_I said _sometimes_, Tim. I never said that this was one of those times."_

"I'm so sorry," Tim said again.

"_Tim...I love you."_

Tim started openly weeping into the phone. It was only after great effort that he managed to speak again. He told them some of what had gone on, repeatedly apologizing for everything that had happened.

"_Tim, stop. You've told us what happened. That's enough."_

"It can't be."

"_Yes, it can...because we forgive you. 'There is no love without forgiveness, and there is no forgiveness without love.' Bryant H. McGill. We love you, Tim, and we forgive you."_

"I love you, too."

There were more words said, but those were the most important ones. Expressions of apology and love to take the place of expressions of hatred and derision.

Of such small steps, progress is made, lessons learned...


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

"_Much of your pain is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self." _

_Kahlil Gibran_

_Two months later..._

There was a knock on the door, pulling Gibbs out of a sound sleep. It didn't stop, the pounding continued without ceasing. It wasn't terribly loud, but it had an urgency to it that got him up and down the stairs to the door.

He opened the door...and opened a flood of words.

"I know...I know it's really late...and I shouldn't have done this. I was about to turn around and just leave, but I thought that it would be worse to knock and then go than it would be to just...just stay and...and let you roll your eyes and wonder why in the world you were even _considering_ letting me work for you again. It's just...I..."

"McGee!"

Tim stopped talking and stared at the ground.

"What's going on?"

"I'm sorry." He turned and started to walk down the sidewalk.

"Hey! What's going on, Tim?"

Tim stopped walking.

"Tim, come inside."

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"Come inside," Gibbs repeated.

Tim took a deep breath and turned around. He meekly followed Gibbs into the house. Gibbs wasn't sure what was going on. Tim had gone home to visit his family for a few days and then had returned to DC. Things had seemed to be going better, but what was this? He directed Tim to sit on the couch. He sat down across from him.

"What's going on?"

Tim shook his head and wouldn't look Gibbs in the eye.

"Tim, you came over here. You must have had a reason. Tell me what's going on."

"I keep...I have..." Tim took another deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm sorry I keep wanting you to be dead."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"I...I have this...recurring nightmare. That's what my therapist calls it. It's just...I keep seeing myself killing Emil...and he was going to be killing you. Sometimes, in my dream...I don't kill him. I let him shoot you. ...and sometimes...I'm happy about that. ...and I know I shouldn't be. I know that's wrong, but I keep...I keep reliving it, and...I don't know if you can really trust someone who keeps dreaming you dying. I don't know if you _should_."

"Can you trust someone really did almost kill you?"

Tim blinked at Gibbs for a few seconds, almost as if he had no idea what Gibbs was talking about.

"I shot you, Tim. That scar you have on your back is from me."

"It doesn't matter."

"Yeah, it does. No matter how you were feeling about yourself back then...and no matter how you feel now...it matters."

"You thought I was...was one of them. ...and you were right. I was. You thought I was a traitor. I was."

"No. You weren't."

Tim straightened slightly. "Boss...you don't understand. Even now...I still feel like a traitor. It doesn't even matter which direction you go. I still betrayed _someone_. The problem is that...sometimes, I'm not sure which group I should feel worse about. I killed Emil. I shot the leader. I don't even know his name...but my actions could have led to you guys getting killed...and I wasn't even _trying_ to do that. The ideas I shared with them led to the deaths of multiple people, led to them almost hacking the Pentagon...and yet...I'm still supposed to be going back to work soon...as a federal agent."

"And you tried to stop them, Tim. Even in the midst of all that, even when you weren't sure which was the right side, even when you had convinced yourself that you hated us, even when we made it easy for you to believe it...you still did the right thing."

"Why is that so clear to you?"

"Because...I watched the video of that night and I saw that you didn't shoot at anyone until Emil shot at me. I saw you trying to stop these people...and I saw you waiting to be killed. ...and I saw myself almost help you do that." Gibbs hesitated and then sighed. "...and you're not the only one having nightmares about that night."

"Who else is?"

Gibbs looked at Tim sharply but noticed that Tim wasn't completely focused on the conversation. Now that the initial adrenaline rush had spent itself, the fact that it was three in the morning was beginning to make itself known to Tim's brain.

"Me, Tim...and I'm probably not the only one."

Tim looked at him in surprise. Had it never occurred to him that others might regret what had happened there? ...but no, clearly it hadn't. Tim couldn't imagine that the others, being right, would have a single thing to regret.

"I shot you, Tim. That's not something you shake off. Friendly fire isn't _ever_ easy."

"But it's okay."

"Maybe to you. It's not to me."

"But why? You were right. You were under fire. Why would it bother you?"

"McGee, if I weren't sure that you were serious, I'd smack you upside the head."

Tim hunched his shoulders in shame. Gibbs sighed. It was so difficult interacting with Tim sometimes. He was definitely doing better, but he was having a hard time getting back into the groove after living for a year with only approval from the people he thought mattered. Sometimes, it boggled Gibbs' mind how the human brain seemed to work. Essentially, Tim had been trained to expect only praise and to rely wholly on approval from this group for everything he'd done. He had told the team how he'd revealed aspects of their investigations into the murders in order to know what to do about it. ...and now, he had to retrain his mind to work independently...and to take criticism.

"Tim...you're sorry about what you did. That's fine. ...but accept that _I'm_ sorry that I shot you. There are excuses, reasons for why I did, but that doesn't change the fact that I wish I had taken the second to notice you weren't firing at anyone."

"You might not have noticed anyway."

"True, but we'll never know...and you could easily have died, and I'm sorry that I put you in that position."

Tim was quiet for a long time. He clasped his hands together and stared at the floor. Gibbs waited. Tim seemed to be thinking hard. Then, he rested his chin on his knuckles. Still, staring at the floor, but acknowledging Gibbs' presence once more.

"Really...Boss...I put myself in that position. It wasn't you. I made the choice to be where I was. ...and it's funny to think about it because...when I do, I realize that I...didn't really make any decisions for myself, not for a long time. I don't know...even now, how they managed it. I know I'm not the most assertive person in the world...but I never would have thought that...that _I_ could have been so totally...taken in by what they did. I remember...the first night...the first time I went to the site...I was really skeptical. It looked like it could be fun. I was smarting from Tony's teasing...and here was a place where the _only_ thing that mattered was one's intelligence. I told myself that...that..." Tim actually laughed a little. "...that at least I wouldn't have to worry about Tony showing up there. No way _he'd _get in."

Gibbs chuckled in reply. Tim was sounding less agitated, more like himself, and he wanted to encourage that.

"...but I didn't think much of what they were saying. It was just a place to hang out with like-minded people. That's all. ...but somehow...somehow it got more and more important. What they thought, what they _did_...it started to mean more to me. I started asking questions about everything. ...everything except for the work I did for them. That all made sense. Every time I came to work...the things that made perfect sense on the site or at that house...it started to...confuse me. ...but it meant so much. It was so _important_. I had to...stop the confusion somehow. I knew I had to give something up or I wouldn't be able to tolerate the tension." Tim looked up at Gibbs. "I gave you all up. Every time I started to think that maybe, just _maybe_ I was making the wrong decision...then, I'd get put down or teased or ignored. That never happened with them. Not _ever_. Not _once_. If you were really my friends, then why would you be acting like that?"

"We certainly helped you along, didn't we," Gibbs said.

"But don't you see, Boss? That's the thing. You may have helped, but I _chose_ to push you away." There was a brief smile. "It was a _bad_ choice, but it was one _I_ made. My choices...weak as they were...are what put me at the house. They're what had me standing in that room. ...and they're what led to you guys being there...and to you shooting me."

"I made a choice, too, Tim."

"Yeah, you did."

"And that choice was to follow where you had gone and try to help you."

Tim inhaled deeply. "...and why did you do that? You were already on the verge of firing me."

"Because we started to see what you were doing. That you were looking for evidence. I didn't think anything of it before...but now..." Gibbs let out a bit of a laugh. "Now, I can't believe that you did all that with how you must have been feeling."

"I hated it," Tim agreed. "Every second...I kept expecting them to...to hear my thoughts, to _know_ what I was doing. They seemed almost omniscient. The only reason I _did_ keep going was because..."

"Because what?"

"Because I thought I'd die in the process and then my betrayal would be punished." Another weak smile. "I'm a messed up guy, Boss. I was a traitor and I knew it...and so I did the very thing that could both further my act of betrayal and get me the proper punishment for it. How could I have known that the people I thought hated me would show up to help me?" There was a gleam of tears in his eyes. "That was the worst moment of my life when I realized you were there. My plan had been to get caught...and to be killed. They'd already killed other people. They didn't take betrayal well. Then, you were there...and instead of me dying...other people were dying. A _lot_ of other people...and you could have been part of that. I didn't know what to do. ...but I knew I couldn't let you get mowed down like that. ...and so...I killed Emil. I killed my leader. ...and then, I was ready to die. That's why I went back into the ballroom after I turned off the strobe lights and the masks and the weapons. I figured I'd be caught in the crossfire. I didn't think anyone would care. I'd betrayed my friends and long since destroyed any relationships I had with my coworkers and family. I had nothing to lose."

"Yeah, you did. You had a _lot_ to lose."

Tim shook his head. "Not right then. At that moment, I had nothing. My whole world had crumbled to dust around me. If you had seen me during the day when I found all that out, you would have realized just how lost I was. I couldn't have hidden it from anyone. That's why I stayed home. I had already lost everything and everyone that made life worth living. The only thing I could do was die. At the moment you shot me...that's all I wanted."

Gibbs had known all this already, but hearing it coming from his agent was hard. How much they had missed, how much had almost been destroyed. ...and how lucky they were that they all had the chance to fix those mistakes.

"And now?" Gibbs asked.

"Now...I'm just trying to...to be deserving of the second chance I have. My family's forgiven me. You guys have...you've said you forgive me. Director Vance is letting me keep my job in spite of the fact that I could be a real liability. I don't want this to become something I take for granted. ...and I still keep wishing that this had never happened. It's still hard for me, Boss. Really hard."

Gibbs took a moment and thought about what to say, what might help in this situation.

"McGee?"

"Yeah?"

"It's okay if it's still hard for you. You have the time for it to be easy again...and we aren't going anywhere this time. ...and neither are you."

He was rewarded with a smile. Small but genuine.

"I don't plan on it."

"Good. Now, it's really late, and you might be able to sleep in, but I have to go to work in a few hours."

Instantly, Tim jumped to his feet, ready to get out of the way, out of Gibbs' hair and leave him in peace. Gibbs could see him worrying about causing more annoyance.

"McGee?"

"Yeah?"

"It's pretty late for you, too. Why don't you just camp out on the couch for the rest of the night?"

The awkward expression on Tim's face was so...normal, that Gibbs almost wanted to celebrate. _That_ was Tim right there.

"Are you..sure...Boss?"

"Yeah. Better than you trying to get back to your place. Did you drive?"

"Yeah."

"You're almost asleep as it is, McGee. It's all right."

As if his words were a trigger, Tim suddenly yawned widely...and then flushed.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize."

Tim started tapping his molars together.

"What is it, Tim?"

"I might dream about you dying again."

"That's okay...as long as you don't wake up and kill me."

Tim actually laughed...which surprised Gibbs more than he'd admit. It was a nice surprise.

"I haven't killed you yet," Tim said.

"I know...and I trust you, Tim."

"Thanks...Boss."

"Go to sleep, McGee."

Tim sat down on the couch and his eyes were almost closing.

"Sorry, Boss."

"It's all right. All of it is all right."

Tim lay down on the couch and his eyes closed completely.

"I forgive you, too," he mumbled and fell asleep.

Gibbs looked at him for a few seconds and then smiled.

"Thanks, Tim."

...and then, he went to bed himself.


	18. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"_Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; __the most massive characters are seared with scars."  
><em>_Kahlil Gibran_

_Two months later..._

"Come in, Agent McGee."

Tim stood nervously and followed Vance into his office. This was the first time he'd been back to NCIS to work since the takedown at the house. He was supposed to be starting today...and he was anxious to prove that he was recovered...mostly.

"Have a seat."

Tim perched awkwardly on the edge of a chair in front of Vance's desk. He sat down and opened a folder. He perused its contents and then looked up at Tim...and seemed to suppress a smile at Tim's position.

"Relax, Agent McGee."

Tim laughed nervously. "I don't think I can, sir."

"All right. I guess it's not required. I have here an assessment from your therapist regarding your fitness to return to active duty."

"Yes, sir."

"And do you know what his recommendation is?"

"That I'm ready to return to work, but not at a full load yet...because I have an incredibly stubborn mind and it's taking longer to fully deprogram me than he expected," Tim said with a rueful smile.

Vance nodded. "More or less. And do you agree?"

"I am...much better than I was, Director," Tim began, wanting to say this right. "In fact, there's no comparison between how I feel now and how I felt six months ago. ...but at the same time, I'm still...a bit uncertain when I shouldn't be."

"And do you think that you'll be able to get rid of that...uncertainty?"

"I hope so, Director. I think I can."

"Okay. Now, we need to address what actually happened."

"It was my fault, sir. I know that Gibbs and Tony and Ziva have told you that they bear a lot of the blame, but I can't let them take it. I'm the one who let them get to me. I'm the one who chose to get involved with that...and if they hadn't been looking for me, likely NCIS would never have been involved."

"You might have been killed."

"I _would_ have been...because, at the time, that was my intention."

Vance nodded.

"I'm sure you know that I was advised to fire you when the extent of your involvement was clear."

"I didn't know for certain, but it makes sense."

"I chose _not_ to do that."

"I know."

"So, what I'm expecting from you now is an assurance that I haven't made the wrong decision."

"How can I do that, sir?"

Vance smiled. "By telling me how you feel about what happened and why you made the decisions you did...and what you anticipate coming in the future. This isn't a set-in-stone statement. You don't have to sign anything. I want you to think about this and be honest with me."

Tim nodded and took a breath.

"I...can't explain how I felt. I can't put words to it. Even now, when I think back, I don't know why in the world I was so taken in by them. It shouldn't have happened. It shouldn't have fallen out that I was so..." Tim sighed. "My therapist keeps telling me it's not a matter of weakness, but it sure feels like that. I am afraid that something like this could happen again just because it happened once, and I never thought it could. Why I did it? The reasons are so...ridiculous when I think of them now."

"Do you think that you'd get fooled again like this? Not...are you _afraid_ of that happening again, but do you really _think_ that it could?"

"No. I don't. I'm...going to be a lot more careful...probably almost paranoid for a while."

"All right. That's good enough for me, Agent McGee."

Tim blinked in surprise. This wasn't what he'd expected.

"What?"

"That's enough."

"...but I...I didn't really..."

"You answered my questions, Agent McGee," Vance said, with an almost smile. "That's all I wanted you to do."

"And that's really enough?"

"Yes. You'll have to meet Agent Gibbs' approval, but somehow, I think that won't be a big problem."

Tim smiled a little.

"So...I think you should go and join your team, Agent McGee."

Tim felt his smile widen, and he realized that he was happy at the idea of going back to work. It was the first time he'd really felt that way in months.

"...and now, I'm even more sure that you should. That's all, Agent McGee. I'll be getting regular reports on your performance, but I don't think there'll be much of a problem."

"Thank you, Director." Tim stood up and was surprised when Vance stood and stuck out his hand. He shook it quickly.

"Welcome back, Agent McGee."

"Thank you."

Tim walked out of the office and headed for the bullpen. He paused at the top of the stairs and looked down. Tony and Ziva were just stepping off the elevator, and Gibbs was sitting at his desk. He smiled and watched as Gibbs' phone rang and he listened intently for a few seconds. Then, he stood up.

"Dead Marine out at Anacostia."

Tony and Ziva instantly grabbed their stuff.

"You coming, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

Tim jumped and then flushed as both Tony and Ziva looked up at him.

"Well, Probie?" Tony asked.

Tim smiled.

"Yeah, I'm coming."

"Great!"

"Come on, then," Ziva said with a grin.

Tim ran down the stairs, ignoring the glances he got from others in the bullpen.

If there were still some things he needed to work on...at least he knew that he was in the right place. And that was the most important thing.

FINIS!


End file.
